


Advent Prompts

by Whatevergirl



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, No Smut, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-02-10 18:51:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 25,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12918054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatevergirl/pseuds/Whatevergirl
Summary: A collection of 00Q prompts, written in 3rd person from mostly Bond's perspective. All set in the same 'verse.





	1. Peace

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt list I'm using comes from https:// tracimsmith. wordpress.com/ 2015/11/29/ advent-writing-prompts-25-days-of-writing-writing-write-writingprompt-writersblock/
> 
> It's from 2015, but I liked the prompts so decided to go for it, including the idea that they are each written with a time limit. 
> 
> When the stories are set may jump around a bit, and the rating will go up and down with each chapter.
> 
> 1.) Something that brings you peace.  
> 2.) An ordinary moment from yesterday.  
> 3.) Being renewed.  
> 4.) A time when you failed.  
> 5.) A time when you were restored to wholeness.  
> 6.) Solo.  
> 7.) Something hopeless.  
> 8.) When you were fearless.  
> 9.) A great delight.  
> 10.) Something ancient.  
> 11.) A time when you were burned.  
> 12.) Perspective.  
> 13.) Something you wish to reclaim.  
> 14.) A joyful moment in your life.  
> 15.) What it means to nourish someone's soul.  
> 16.) Water.  
> 17.) Friendship.  
> 18.) Restlessness.  
> 19.) Asking for something.  
> 20.) Being blessed.  
> 21.) Something that sparkles.  
> 22.) A favourite memory.  
> 23.) Something you have received.  
> 24.) Something you have given.  
> 25.) Someone you love.

Bond yawned as he watched Q tap away on his computer, those long fingers twitching as beautiful green eyes barely blinked. They’d only been together for several months, Bond having returned half a year ago from his jaunt around England with Madeline.

The two of them really hadn’t worked. She’d been thinking of exotic beaches and sunny weather but Bond had had very different ideas about what he’d wanted to do; a small cottage in the Lake District, out of the way for the most part but in beautiful countryside. The chance to adopt a dog and go for long walks, a chance to enjoy the country he’d spent so much of himself protecting. 

In the end, it wasn’t a cottage so much as an old manor house that he’d gotten, Madeline scoffing quietly at the smaller ones… but he’d told her to leave not long after he had bought this place. She hadn’t objected, packing her bags and getting a train to the nearest airport. 

“I thought you were planning on an early night.” Q’s eyes flickered away from his screen to where Bond was sprawled on the rug in front of the fire.

“I am.” He replied, making no attempt to move as Q rolled his eyes and grinned.

The house was silent for the moment, apart from the crackling of the fire and the roar of the wind outside. It was more peaceful than anything he’d encountered before.

It was enough for him to realise why his parents had retired to Skyfall, a big old house in the middle of nowhere; the way this place allowed him to relax, no fear of anyone coming to hunt him down. 

Not that this manor was anything like Skyfall; it was big and old, but Q had ripped up the wiring and gotten good lights put in; he’d insisted on good insulation, a new boiler and thick carpets. This wasn’t an old, empty shell of a house, but a loving home filled with pets and technology and car parts. They had a hot tub, an indoor pool and two double garages filled with the restoration projects Q had given Bond to work on in his retirement. 

Forty-five was an age he had never expected to reach, and he was aware that he had become increasingly lax with his own safety as it approached… but Q made retirement enjoyable. The younger man came to visit when he could, usually bringing something new for Bond to do; first he’d made Bond turn the house into a home, then he’d brought the ruins of a 1930s Talbot for Bond to fix, then he’d taught Bond how to hack computers (not that he’d ever try it on Q’s, he was nowhere near that level, and had no desire to worm his way into Q’s laptop behind his back), then he’d brought a 1970s Thunderbird. 

Q had promised to bring him the preferred cars when Bond was able to fix these two up to the Quartermaster’s standard… Not that Bond had no help; when Q came up to visit, he brought overalls and usually ended up covered in engine grease.

“Did you get round to starting golf?” Q asked as he stretched his arms above his head, having apparently defended MI6 remotely again.

“I did.” 

Q closed the lid of his computer, setting it on the coffee table before kicking his feet up onto the sofa. “Do you like it?” His eyes were shut, but there was a slight tension in his body that showed the man was listening.

“I’m… not good at it.” Bond admitted, his face twisting as he spoke. Q visibly drooped where he was settled, and the blond Labrador abandoned Bond to go lie on the sofa with Q. 

“Maybe if you practise?” Q sounded guilty, and Bond knew why. He hadn’t chosen to retire, and he knew Mallory had asked the department heads whether or not he should be allowed to continue as 007 for another few years. Q had said no. The Quartermaster wasn’t the only one who had refused, but his vote was the one that had hurt Bond. They had been friends, their banter the only reason Bond had kept his ear pieces while working as 007, and he had happily ignored the fact that Q had been in love with him, considering it to be little more than puppy love and admiration… It had actually been Madeline that made him realise that Q’s affections weren’t superficial, but actually deeper than that. 

It wasn’t far off admiration because he’d never held Q at a distance; the Quartermaster had known who he really was, bitter age issues and all… He’d always mocked Bond’s worries with an expression that said he wanted to help but didn’t know how – socially awkward little bugger that he was.

When he’d stormed down to Q-Branch and demanded to know why Q didn’t think he was fit to continue, Q had sighed and taken him into his office.

“You aren’t going to stop aging, Bond.” He had said, his face tugged into a serious frown. “Say you get an extension and can work as 007 until you are fifty, then you’ll spend the whole time repeating what you’ve already done and dreading the movement of time.”

“Q…” he had replied, weakly… unable to fully deny the man’s words.

“You’ve stripped down to your pants and are stood on the diving board, Bond. It’s time to take the plunge.” A smile quirked at the young man’s lips, but it didn’t manage to break through his concerned look. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll find a measure of peace.”

And Bond had thought back to the house he had bought in the Lakes and had left behind to return to London. He had considered his flat, large, polished and devoid of all life. 

“Maybe I’ll have a friend come and help me search for it.” He’d said, not even trying to hide the quiver in his voice.

“Definitely, just let me know where you are looking.”

And now, Bond could see his measure of peace, staring intently at him from underneath a living, furry blanket. “I’ve asked John about it. He’s willing to take time out to help me improve.”

“Excellent.” Q let out a relieved breath, bring a hand up to scratch Bonnie’s head as he lay under her. “You’ve grown as a person, asking people for help. I’m really rather proud of you.” 

“If you could say that without the heavy layer of sarcasm I might believe you.” Bond chuckled. “But… it is nice to have friends outside of work. Strange, as they all think I’m a retired Naval Officer, but… pleasant.”

“You want to be a Navy man for me, Bond? You know I won’t object.” Q’s grin was ruining the heated look he was trying to give Bond. “I do love you in uniform.”

“You love me anyway.” Bond replied with a smile of his own as he turned over, dislodging their old English sheepdog with the motion.

“Would it be too geeky of me to say always?”

“What?” Bond’s voice was soft as he felt sleep lapping at the edges of his consciousness. 

“You need to ready something other than the newspaper.” Q laughed happily.

He didn’t bother to answer, hazily thinking with his last waking thoughts that with Q, he had indeed managed to find peace.


	2. An Ordinary Moment From Yesterday

Lying in medical, held in place by threats and high doses of pain medication, Bond mused on the events of the day before. When had Q become such a regular part of his day? They had been working together for just over a year and he honestly struggled to think of how dull his missions must have been before Q had been a part of them. 

“You should be able to use your phone to hack that, 007.” Q had told him loftily as Bond had glared at the computer he’d been unable to get into.

“My phone can hack the computer? And you’ve just sat and waited for me to struggle through this anyway?” Bond had bitten back a growl, resisting the urge to take his earwig out and stamp on it.

“Yes.” Q had sounded amused, Bond had been able to hear the man’s grin. “Just bring up the camera and direct it at the screen… No, take another step back. Right… But yes, it’s useful to know where your hacker levels are at.”

“My hacker levels?” He’d answered flatly, not appreciating Q experimenting while he was in the field.

“I’ve heard yours are good, but I’m not seeing it. Perhaps when you know the person, but in somewhere as impersonal as this then you can’t manage. Don’t worry, 007. I recommend you stick to being the brawn of these operations.”

“And you’re the brains in this then?” He’d chuckled, before putting his phone away and moving back to the keyboard. “This is quicker than it used to be. I’ve had one before for hacking into a fire alarm system to shut a building down, but it took longer.”

“I know. I built that technology back when I was R. It’s designed to work with or without communication to Q-Branch, but it is faster when we are working with it.”

“006 and I were cut off from MI6 when I’d used that.” He had remembered, and still did… It had been their final mission together before the other 00 had been killed.

“I’ve not improved the actual technology as much as I would have liked, I’ve barely touched it in two years…” Q had sounded wistful. “I used to have much more free time… now you need to insert the USB stick… Give it a minute. Should be automatic.”

He’d been tense, listening to voices outside the door as he crouched behind the computer. But Bond recalled how Q mumbling in his ear had been such a normal part of the mission that he’d been thrown when the young man muted his microphone. 

“Q? Where’ve you gone?”

A box stating ‘Upload Complete’ appeared on the screen, and so Bond had clicked to disconnect the drive before removing it from the computer and putting it in a pocket. He had then frowned at the door as he saw two silhouettes against the frosted glass; that exit was blocked as this mission was to be entirely covert. He’d crept over to a ground level vent, moving the plant pot far enough to open it up before crawling in and awkwardly shutting the vent and reaching through to move the pot again. 

“Bond?” Q’s voice had returned as the agent crawled quietly along. “You need to get out. Fast. There is an inspection and they’ve found your bike. The place is going into lockdown.”

“Does that include the vents I’m in?”

“Let me che… no. But the outside exit is right by the guard station. I think you’ll need to exit inside the building and make your own way out.”

“Fantastic.”

“You’re in the venting… Let me bring that up and work out where exactly you. There you are. There is a right in about fifteen metres. You’ll need to take it.”

“How did you not know there was an inspection today?” Bond had hissed as he took a right.

“There’s a drop ahead of you, then it opens out and you’ll need to take the left path.” Q had given directions before replying. “And I know they do random checks on all their facilities around here, but which ones have no digital record until after the event. You agents might potter off on your missions with very little notice but Q Branch gathers as much information as possible ahead of time. There are other facilities that have gone longer without a check than this one so statistically, this one should have been fine.”

“To the left… There are two paths to the left, which one am I taking?” He had taken a moment to relax as Q checked. “And statistics don’t account for everything.”

“The farthest left. You need to nearly be doubling back on yourself. And no, statistics don’t account for your shitty luck.” 

“Thanks, Quartermaster. You’re a ray of sunshine sometimes.”

“You need to move faster. Take the next right then after another twenty metres there should be a cover for you to drop down into a room. Replace the cover and head out into the corridor.”

“Understood.”

Then there had been silence as 007 had moved, the only interruptions were Q giving direction.

“Into this room on the left. There should be a case somewhere in here with new tech. It’s a gun with a scope on top.”

“Got it.”

“Take it with you. Back into the corridor and go left.”

“I didn’t realise we were here to shop too.”

“We’re not.” Q had sighed and most likely rolled his eyes as he did when Bond playfully questioned what he was doing. “If they see you leaving with experimental tech, then hopefully they will think that’s what you were here for. Plus it gives you something to drop or throw if you they start to get too close.”

He had approved of the plan, but in his exit he had hung onto the weapon for too long. He’d thrown the gun off a cliff to distract them after a grenade had thrown him some distance, then limped away with the memory stick safely tucked inside a pocket. 

“You’re an idiot.” Bond opened his heavy eyes to see his Quartermaster standing at the edge of the bed.

“I thought visitors were meant to offer words of comfort.” 

“I could have been harsher.” Q shrugged. “They wouldn’t have been so desperate to get you if you’d dropped that gun earlier.”

“I thought it might be nice to bring you a souvenir back.” Bond grinned up at him, and Q laughed softly. 

“There’s less paperwork involved if you come back alive. A much better gift.”

With Q grinning down at him, Bond rather found that the new normal he’d discovered of having Q’s support on every mission was something he greatly appreciated. He’d find the Quartermaster something to say thank you, right after he broke out of medical.


	3. Being Renewed

“And as St. Paul said, ‘Therefore, we do not become discouraged. Though our outer self is wasting away, yet our inner self is being renewed day by day.’ And though he was writing so many years ago, it is still relevant today.”

It was only early in the morning, but Bond was sat on a hard, wooden pew listening to the priest. He was sure he looked mildly curious as he’d mastered the art of faking interest many years ago… even so, something in the words kept him from glazing over entirely. 

“It means, of course, that though our physical bodies will age and decay, our souls are renewed each day in Christ.”

The renewal that peace brought about... Bond could almost understand it. He had been retired for nearly ten years and he honestly felt more alive and whole than he had during his last few years as 007. 

The rest of the sermon and the mass itself washed over him with little impact; he was here because he had agreed to help out with the summer fair, which would be taking place after the mass rather than for a religious obligation. After all, he wasn’t likely to reach Heaven; he’d killed far too many people without a glimmer of regret to reach eternal happiness.

Eventually, Bond headed out to stand by the small obstacle course that he’d help set up, a line of teenagers already forming as they discussed whether to go for the easy route or the harder one that had been set up. However, his mind was already drifting back to the idea of renewal. 

This was his renewal, his chance for a new start. His outer self was still aging, it was growing old more noticeably now that his fitness regime was more lax to suit his less demanding life; but his inner self was alive, revelling in the chance to be a part of a community, to experience the England he had fought to keep safe. He found he was interested in far more than drink, women and weapons now; he had pets, friends, a lover who came to visit as often as he could; it was bizarre that instead of feeling bored, Bond had adapted to a new lifestyle so completely.

Not with ease. It had been a long and difficult process of learning how to trust the people in the small town, those he drank with, saw at the shops and out on the mountain trails. Everyone knew he had been in the Navy, one group of children laughed when they saw him with a happy salute and a cry of ‘Commander Bond!’ and he’d been into the local Secondary School to talk about taking up a career in the Navy. 

It was a far cry from London, and although he missed the bustle of the streets and the miles of familiar roads, he enjoyed this too. It was refreshing to stroll down the street and be greeted by half a dozen people; he loved taking the dogs out on long hikes; he was even considering getting the stable back into working order and getting a horse for himself (and eventually Q, who was learning not to look at all the creatures out here like they were going to eat him); but best of all was being able to drive his car through the country lanes, he got to enjoy pushing the speed and not worry about sitting in traffic, that generally only happened when he got stuck behind a tractor, or during the school holidays when tourists came in greater numbers. 

Renewal, he decided, was an apt description for what had happened to him.

“I mean, don’t bother answering your phone or anything. I’ll just pull up your tracker and walk here.” The familiar voice made Bond turn with a grin. 

“You’re a day early. Is the world ending?” He held out an arm as Q moved in.

“Piss off.” He laughed, the lines by his eyes deepening in the way Bond rather loved.

He pressed a kiss to the man’s head. “Careful, love. There are children about.”

“I’d forgotten the fair was on today. I’d have brought some toys to sell for the kids.”

He chuckled and watched as Q dropped his bag, removed his jacket and dumped that beside his lover too. “Get me a drink too?” he called out as Q wandered over to the drinks stand.

“Sure.”

Q was no longer then young man he had once been. The light in his eyes didn’t shine in London anymore, the struggle of the job and the deaths of numerous agents had taken its toll. His face was lined, there were always bags under his eyes when he arrived and his hair was liberally streaked with silver.

He was here at least every two to three weeks now, though the length of his visits varied. The Quartermaster had put a lot of effort into teaching other boffins to do what he could do, spreading his knowledge amongst them like a parent feeding his children. It had been a difficult process, highly stressful to a man who wasn’t used to teaching, but the end result had been worth it. Now there were groups of boffins who had knowledge in particular areas and Q wasn’t stretched so thin.

As he watched his lover head back over with drinks and cupcakes, he mused that it would be a wonderful thing when Q managed to retire; something to look forward to.


	4. A Time of Failure

“I wonder what his reign is going to be like.” 005 mused as he stood beside Bond, a glass of scotch in his hand. 

Bond simply hummed in reply. Mallory only had a rule because he had failed to keep Mansfield alive. He’d tried his bloody hardest and still failed, which was proving more frustrating than if he’d obviously missed something that could have saved her… unless you counted his lack of training while recovering from getting shot off a moving train.

“He was ruthless as a 00, do you remember?” Stuart Thomas was forty three, only a few years older than Bond but he had been made a 00 in his twenties. “I don’t suppose you would have worked with him though. I think he did some deep undercover work right before he aged out.”

“No. I didn’t.” He answered quietly, his thoughts sombre as he watched the numerous mourners milling about the function room of the pub that had been chosen. 

“What do you think of the new Quartermaster?”

“He’s a cocky little shit, but he knows what he’s doing.” Bond actually rather liked him, having a boffin answer him back was a novel experience. 

“I know. He’s already told me to piss off when I went to see about the tech they have down there right now.” 005 drained his glass of the dregs and dumped it on a table nearby. “All the IT lot are working overtime at the moment.”

“Why?”

“They’re paranoid about another Silva getting in.” 0012 had joined them, her face etched with a misery that she couldn’t hide. She’d been head hunted from MI5 by Mansfield and they’d had what was almost an actual friendship. “The old Q was more about offence than defence so a lot of the system just weren’t as up-to-date as they needed to be.”

“So they’re playing catch up?” ‘Too little too late’ was what he wanted to say, but the man responsible for the delay was dead and his successor was trying to rectify the mistake.

“So look out where you sit. A fair number of the sofas are taken up by sleeping boffins.” She managed a smile, and turned to chat to 005 as Bond moved off.

He spotted Q chatting to a scruffy looking man with wonky teeth and a serious expression. There was something familiar in his face, making the agent wonder if this had been a family member in the know, rather than someone else in MI6. Now that he took the time to observe though, he could see the bags under the Quartermaster’s eyes and the exhaustion that pulled the young man down. He wondered about how many hours the other was actually working, having had earwigs given to him when he’d been working; if that was new standard procedure then someone had to still be helping with the active missions. After all, the world didn’t stop just because Mansfield had died; those undercover generally remained there and other agents had been sent out since. 

He felt the guilt pressing on his chest, the acknowledgement of the change coming and the realisation of mortality; not of his own mortality, that he had made peace with many years ago, but more the fact that his bedrock had been removed. He wouldn’t say he had been friends with M, she had tolerated him with varying levels of amusement and frustration and he often found her to be unbending and difficult; however she had always been there, from the time he had left the Navy to work for MI6 as a junior agent and her absence felt more monumental than he would have believed. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so blindsided by this, should have expected this… but he’d never considered the possibility of her dying, had never imagined MI6 without her leading it. 

He was incredibly annoyed at himself for this naïvety because he’d honestly been expecting her to find a way to fight this transition and remain as M. He felt like he had failed everyone with his inability to save her and she was haunting his dreams in a way no one had since Vesper had died.

It was impossible to imagine what MI6 would be without her. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. Her sharp tongue had always helped to settle him, her biting words letting him know he was home… Now, he was numb and unwilling to look properly at the future to consider how things were going to be. He knocked back the rest of his drink, letting his glass clatter to the table as he began to push his way out.

“Leaving already, Bond?” Q approached him with a smile quirking at his lips. 

“I’m planning to have an early night.” He stated, though he actually planned to sit in his flat and drink more. “You look like you should too.”

“Can’t.” Q stifled a yawn, stumbling slightly as his body fought for sleep. “I still have too much to do.”

“I can’t say I’d trust the quality of your work right now.”

“Piss off.” But Q’s eyes were drooping and he really was struggling to stay awake.

“Come on, I’ll give you a lift.” He grasped Q’s shoulder and guided him outside, nodding at Moneypenny as she gave them a relieved smile.

“It should be a lift in my car. Remember? The one I told you to bring back in one piece?” His words were slurring as they headed out to the carpark. “Why’d you go and blow it up?”

“I didn’t. Silva did.” He responded as he unlocked the car and folded the Quartermaster inside. For once, the mention of the events at Skyfall didn’t fill him with utter misery, his attention focussed more on getting Q into a bed.

Q swore sleepily, his head already dipping onto his chest as Bond buckled him in.

“Guess you’re coming to mine then.” He sighed as he got in. Q had toppled against the door, breathing heavily as he slept.

Plans to sit and drink disappeared as he set off; he’d failed to keep Mansfield safe, but he’d do a better job with his idiot Quartermaster who was apparently too young to look after himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you want to know, I imagined Q talking to Eames from Inception as in my head, she is definitely his mother.


	5. When you were Restored to Wholeness

A call to Mallory’s office. Automatically flirt with Moneypenny. Speak to Mallory. Accept the mission. Visit Q Branch. Automatically flirt with Q. Claim that the tech will be returned in one piece. Catch a flight. Land. Check into the hotel. Double-check the information. Head out to stalk target…

It was only at the stage in what had been a very detached process that Bond started to feel truly aware of himself; the rush of adrenaline that burned through him as he crept through the silent corridors, the thumping of his heart, matched only the roar in his ears, the sweat on his palms as he gripped his gun, his feet as he placed them quietly down… 

It felt like a moment of coming back to himself, the failure of the last few months falling away. This was who he was, not the man who had been shot off a train by a junior agent, not the man who had failed to keep their leader alive, not the man that people skirted past, their eyes averted as though he was bad luck personified. He was a spy and an assassin, built for the soft movements of the hunt and the thrill of the chase. 

It felt like a different world that he was coming into though. Tech had been around before Moneypenny had shot him, but the difference in Q Branch was evident. The old Q had used tech to make more impressive weapons, more accurate, more adaptable to different environments. This Q was more interested in communication and defence… he also started agents off on a small number of gadgets and gave them more according to necessity and good behaviour. 

However, unlike some authority figures, Q’s rewards actually felt like rewards rather than patronising pats on the head. Bond currently had his PPK, a radio (all agents carried them in case their other tech was jammed and they needed to get out, not as secure but a good back-up), he also had a smart phone, with apps on it that he personally couldn’t access as Q wouldn’t relinquish control, and he had a button-hole camera, allowing Q a view of what was going on regardless of how many security cameras were around. The phone was a reward for good behaviour on the milk runs he had been send on, the camera as this was a covert mission and Q needed to know what was happening without Bond needing to speak to tell him. 

He’d been given his pieces with idle threats to return them while the man had had half an eye on his computer screen. At the time, Bond had still been too numb to care, but now he could recall 008 getting sent off with far less humour. Impressive, as it seemed the Quartermaster could adapt his disposition to match the agent. 

“Wait a second, 007. There’s a cleaner heading your way. The next room on your left should be empty… No, the next room. You’re already beside that one, but it’s got too many computers for me to be comfortable with you hiding in there.”

Slipping inside and shutting the door, Bond waited as he heard the thud of footsteps and the fuzzy noise of music through headphones to pass.

“Rather late for a cleaner, isn’t it?” He whispered, his mind racing as he enjoyed the challenge, mild though it was at the moment before quietly exiting the room and continuing on.

“This floor is generally used for international business, there are still a few workers around, but I’m keeping an eye on them. The cleaner works later as she doesn’t have keys for all these offices.”

“Does she have the one I need?” He didn’t actually like tricking innocent people who were just doing their shitty jobs. 

“No.” Q sounded amused. “He has an electronic lock on a closed system, so you’ll need your smart phone for that. Oh, thank you.”

The hum that followed and the sip told Bond that Q had accepted a cup of tea, he could almost see the image as it slotted perfectly into his understanding of how the new Q branch worked.

“Other minions here already? It must be five in the morning there.” He joked, his spirit finally light enough to manage it.

“What? Oh, well we have agents all around the world. Q Branch is never actually empty. You need to take the right, not the left.”

“So anytime of the night, I can give you a call?” He asked, his tone highly suggestive.

Q snorted in amusement but quickly smothered it before answering. “You call Q Branch, you’ll get someone in Q Branch. I’ll have you know, 007, that I don’t give agents my private number.” There was laughter in his voice that made Bond smile.

“Not even your favourites?”

“009 brought me some sweets back from his last trip and 002 some rather wonderful tea from hers. I’m afraid it’s those two vying for top spot on my list of favourites.”

“I’m here.” He crouched at the handle and looked at the door. It certainly was a fancy lock and though Bond could get through electronic locks, they were usually far simpler than this.

“There should be an app with ‘84’ as its shortcut. Tap that.” Bond did as directed. “Now hold it up so the front-facing camera is adjacent to – that’s it.”

“84?” Bond asked as Q took control of his phone and the target’s lock.

“George Orwell’s 1984? You know, Big Brother is Watching You?” Q chatted, even as Bond could hear the clatter of his keyboard. “Of course, Big Brother in this situation isn’t some shitty telly programme that I never managed to get in to, but it’s a definite omniscient and harsh ruler that keeps control through Thought Police and severe propaganda.”

“Even I don’t think MI6 is that bad.” He chuckled softly as the door opened and he let himself in.

“No. We let people be people for the most part. But it is one of my favourite books because it makes you think.”

Bond switched on the computer, propping his phone up so that the camera was facing the screen as he began to search the room. “Does it now?” He asked dryly, grinning slightly at the conversation.

“Oh yes. ‘Reality exists in the human mind, and nowhere else’.” Q’s tone changed as he quoted the story.

“Reality has a good go at existing when I throw a grenade.” Bond replied lightly as he thumbed through files.

Q laughed. “Thankfully I didn’t give you one. Here’s another quote then: ‘I enjoy talking to you. Your mind appeals to me. It resembles my own mind except that you happen to be insane.’ Oh, I have everything I need off his computer.”

“I’d watch where you’re flinging accusations, Quartermaster.” He suggested with a smirk, carefully placing the files where they had been and collecting his phone.

“I believe insanity is a requirement for a 00.” Q stated. “Time to come home then. It’s been rather pleasant having you actually chat this time, 007. On your past few missions you did little more than growl.”

“Watch your tongue. I can go back to that.” 

But in truth he did feel more like himself; covert missions were fine when you just put on a fine suit and acted like you belonged, but it didn’t compare to donning black and creeping around unseen. It had been an easy mission, but a useful one as he felt himself start to heal.


	6. Solo

“Q?” Bond asked as he dropped down next to the computer. “Q?”

The only reply he had was a distant crackling. Q Branch had gone quiet nearly ten minutes earlier but Bond hadn’t thought anything of it. He was sneaking through a weapons facility and the lack of chatter in his ear meant that he hadn’t been distracted when stalking through the corridors. 

“Q?” Again, followed by a faint crackle. He wondered if that was Q trying to speak. “Well, let’s give it a shot.” 

He held up the phone, tapping into the Big Brother app and pointing the camera at the screen; nothing happened. Scowling at the screen for a moment, he realised the signal had disappeared; surprising, as Q claimed he used the trackers in agents’ bodies to boost the signal. Bond hadn’t encountered this problem before.

No matter, he decided, slipping the phone back into a pocket. He began to open drawers and rifle through papers, hunting quickly for a password. He preferred to leave this to Q, who could hack much faster back in England than Bond could search the room (not that he’d ever tell the boffin that). In the back of a personal diary, dated from several years earlier, he saw a collection of random words and numbers; one in particular had clearly had several grubby fingers just below it and it was those figures he put into the computer.

Swearing quietly to himself, he pulled out the memory stick and plugged it in. Apparently this was set up to work automatically because it instantly started to glow a steady green. Standing up, Bond moved over to look at some of the walls; they were covered in papers, weapon design with notes added and things crossed out. He debated for a moment, then decided to take what he could manage; nothing that would make him too bulky, but there was no point trying to leave things as they had been. He’d already left dead bodies stashed in cupboards so it would be noticed that someone had been here.

It had been some time, he had to admit, since he’d done a mission solo like this; without guidance in his ear and a technological advantage stemming from a link to Q… and yet, he found that it was a little more lonely than he was used to. The witty banter and sarcastic jabs had made the job more enjoyable, the thing he enjoyed about working with other agents but with the reassurance that Q was safe in England and he only had to watch his own back.

For all that he was able to complete his mission alone and escape the facility uninjured, it was still a relief when Q’s voice once again filled his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a short one today. Ran out of time to make it any longer.


	7. Something Hopeless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's a sad one.

“James?” Kincade’s voice called down the passage, but James could tell that he hadn’t entered the passage. “James, come on now. They’ve gone.”

James didn’t reply. He stayed where he was, curled up in the nest he had made earlier in the week. The soft blankets and cushions no longer held the scent of his parents as they hadn’t been in Skyfall often enough to really make a difference, but with his mother’s favourite throw wrapped around him, he ignored the gamekeeper. 

“You’ve been given an extension, you don’t have to go to boarding school until after Easter.” The man informed him, but the words did no good. He didn’t want to move to London, but he couldn’t say he wanted to remain here, where his parent’s absence was like a monster lurking in the shadows; not noticeable on the surface as he was usually only here with Kincade, but there was a distinct awareness that something was not as it should be. 

He tried to ignore the way his eyes were watering, but it was no good. The tears fell and it was with a numb kind of curiosity that James tracked their path down his cheeks and towards his nose, slower than he would have expected.

Their bodies had been returned on Tuesday, accompanied by solemn-faced mourners as they were laid to rest in the ground. It was almost a comfort to hide in the priest’s hole, underground as well and with the things his parent’s preferred to rest in… had preferred to rest in; his father’s dark green pyjamas, his slippers and the robe that still had his pipe in the pocket. He had his mother’s old, but much loved blanket and the pillows from her bed. 

The idea of laying his parent’s to rest in their best clothing seemed like non-sense. You couldn’t sleep in a suit. But when he had suggested to the priest that had joined them for the funeral that they ought to have these things with him, the spiritual figure had shook his head sadly and claimed that their rest wasn’t actually underground, although that was where their earthly bodies were, but that they had gone on ahead to see God. James supposed this was why they were wearing nice clothes, but he still didn’t think it sounded restful; after all, he’d always gotten in trouble for slouching in his Sunday best.

Regardless, he liked to spend his time underground and hidden away, which felt as close to his parents as he could manage, even if it was only their earthly bodies.

“I’ve put a tray down here. Do come and eat while it’s still hot.”

There was a slide as Kincade shut the panel over again, not all the way, James knew… but close enough that he felt safe.   
He’d have to move eventually, but the house felt overwhelmingly oppressive whenever he stood inside it, as though the walls were caving with the weight of pretending things were normal. 

Because normal had gone.

All that had been left in its place was a crushing reality that all hope for the future had been sucked from his life. All the plans he had to could no longer be fulfilled. His plans to sail again with his father, to make the man proud of his ability… last time his father had scolded him for not listening, as it had resulted in injury. His mother’s light-hearted discussions of one day holding a wedding at Skyfall, and her resulting laughter whenever her son pulled a face at the idea of marriage. 

When he went to Eton, he wouldn’t be able to write and tell his mother about the friends he would make, or what the school masters were like… He wouldn’t be able to tell his father which sports he had taken up, which subjects he was best at and his plans for a job.

He couldn’t yet find the energy to stand and retrieve the tray Kincade had left. He was too busy trembling and curling up tightly, having given up trying to deny one simple fact; his heart was breaking and he could see no way to repair it.

He was alone.


	8. When You were Fearless

Did it count as fearless when he just didn’t care anymore? Bond wasn’t sure, he just knew that at forty two, his time as a 00 was coming to an end; he had less than three years to go. 

It felt like a death sentence and left him utterly disinterested in his future. After all, he was a weapon to be used by the government to defend Queen and country, it was all that he had been for so long that there was nothing else left.

“There are three targets around this corner, 007. Two behind barrels and one behind that wooden board with the writing on it. He’s just to the left and about the same height as you.” Q informed him as he hurried along, mercilessly taking down any and all opposition. 

Three well placed shots and the hidden foes were eliminated.

“Status, 007?” Q asked.

“Annoyed. Evil officer of the day said that fearlessness was a sign of insanity.” He growled as he crouched down to peak around the next corner, apparently Q had no cameras around there to hack.

“Yes, well… ‘Dispute with her not. She is lunatic.’ So don’t worry.” Q replied as though what he said made sense as Bond ducked to avoid rapid fire.

“Q? What are you on about?” Two more shots took down the man with the machine gun before damage could be done and Bond crept forward to hide behind a crate.

“It’s from Shakespeare. Basically means people shouldn’t argue with the nutters.” The young man laughed in his ear.

“And now you’re calling me insane!” He complained, but he was grinning as he aimed at a man hurrying across an overhead walkway.

“Well, ‘we’re all mad here’, as the cat said to Alice.” Q was definitely laughing as him, and the voice in his ear once again managed to dispel any concerns. 

Perhaps he wasn’t afraid when he went into dangerous situations, but Q was right. He worked at MI6, where all the agents were detached from the less helpful emotions (and often, while in the field, emotions all together). He was hardly the only 00 who pelted into situations where others would hesitate, cutting through his enemies with neither alarm nor conscience. It was a quality that was nurtured in agents and which 00s excelled at. 

“First you referred to me as she, now you’re calling me Alice.” He grunted as a bullet fractured the window behind him. “Do I want to ask why?”

“If you’re asking whether I think you’d suit a blue swing-dress and a white apron or not then I’m afraid the answer is no. You need to head up the stairs on your left here.” Q told him, in a haughty voice that quickly dissolved into chuckles.

“Thank you, Quartermaster.”

“I’m going to give myself nightmares imagining you as Alice in Wonderland. You’d have gotten your own way with the Queen of Hearts far quicker than she did, I suppose.”

“You’re going to give me nightmares at this rate.” He snorted as he considered how the previous M would have looked in that black and red dress. He wasn’t sure he’d have done any better than Alice in that situation; Mansfield had never been afraid of him. 

“Too late.” Q whined, sounding like he was talking with his face in his hands. “I’m now thinking of Tanner as the White Rabbit and M as the King of Hearts. I need another cuppa.”

“Does Alice get to complain that the cat is the one responsible for her insanity?” Bond griped as Q laughed loudly. “Or at the very least made it worse.”

“I do apologise, 007. Now go forth and fearlessly complete your mission."


	9. A Great Delight

Bond grinned as he watched Q leaning against the railing, the salty breeze ruffling their hair as the cruise ship slowly pushed through the water. It was the second island in the cruise that they were pulling into, and Bond had to admit that he was feeling mixed emotions already. On the one hand, it was utterly amazing to get away with Q, to sail the Caribbean and relax together; but on the other it was one island closer to when they had to go back, where Q would finish the rest of his holiday and then go back to London. The understanding for the Quartermaster taking so much time off was that there were various big missions coming up that would take a large portion of the time and attention of Q Branch. His lover wasn’t going to be able to come up for an estimated two months and Bond already felt himself dreading it. 

He felt as though the trip was going by too fast and they were only six days into their fourteen night cruise. What was more concerning was Q’s behaviour, which was currently bouncing between relaxed, excited and terrified. Bond wasn’t sure what the problem was as his lover had assured him that he wasn’t afraid of water at all. 

That in itself had been a relief as Bond loved the water. He’d not been abroad in a decade, not since he’d retired and settled down, but when Q had asked whether he’d like to take a break? Bond had agreed in a heartbeat. Two weeks about a cruise ship or in various ports and then another week at home. He loved the water and while a ship this large didn’t rock as much as he had gotten used to. There were one or two passengers who complained that it was too much as they clung to the rails, but Bond and Q walked with ease across the decks. 

“Dinner?” Bond asked, as a glance at his watch told him it was nearly two in the afternoon and they would have missed the crowds.

“I need to change.” Q gave him a wry grin as he glanced down at his shirt. A young girl had run head-long into him earlier on, pressing chocolate ice-cream into his light, linen top. 

“Come on then.”

Q took his arm and they strolled back down to their suite. 

“I’m glad we did this.” Q sighed happily as Bond opened the door.

“The cruise?” Bond asked as he watched the man strip off his top. Age was catching up and he’d put weight on, but the most important part was the lack of scars on his body. Q had three from adulthood (several scars from roller-skating, falling out of trees and the results of childhood games, but Bond rather loved those ones – they hinted at some normality in Q’s childhood), two of the injuries had been as a direct result of his role as Quartermaster, the other when Q had gotten mixed up in a bank robbery and hadn’t had the sense to keep his head down and stay quiet. All of his scars spoke of who he was as a person; someone who had played games growing up, was frighteningly intelligent, superefficient as the head of Q Branch and, at times, a pig-headed idiot. Bond loved him more than he could say.

“There- There was something I wanted to ask you actually.” Q stated, the terrified expression on his face again as he turned to look at Bond, a mint-green top only half buttoned up.

“What’s wrong?” He took in the details of Q’s face. He wasn’t sad, which hopefully meant none of their friends had been injured or killed; nor was he distressed in a way that spoke of any illness having taken a hold of Q; the man had shown no hint of wanting to break up, and Q wasn’t a good enough actor to hide that… but he was scared, as though he had done something reckless that he thought Bond would be annoyed about? Or had he broken something the thought Bond was attached to? The only thing would be that porcelain dog from Mansfield, but Bond had made peace with her death over the years, that one item didn’t matter so much.

“I… I’ve never thought to ask your opinion on… but it’s a – a thing I always liked the idea of…” Q was stumbling badly over his words, but the small velvet box in his hands made everything clear.

“I love the idea.” His voice going hoarse with emotion as he grinned broadly.

“Y-You do?” The startled, hopeful look took years off Q’s face, making him the young upstart Bond had once bristled at.

“You need to actually ask me before I can give you an answer though.” His heart was thundering, his body doused with adrenaline as he forced himself to hold still. 

“I wasn’t g-going to – yet… B-But it’s hard to relax when, well…” He half fell to one knee, still visibly trembling as he held the box out. “James… W-Will you marry me?”

The words were forced out in a rush, Q still apparently nervous despite knowing what Bond’s answer would be.

Bond dropped to his own knees, pulling Q against him to whisper “Yes!” before capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. “Fuck, Q!” he hissed, the smile on his face almost hurting it was so wide. 

“I’m so glad you said yes.” Q replied, tucking his face into Bond’s neck as the older man embraced him tightly. “I was worried you’d think it was a bit corny.” 

“Well, you know me, love. I love a bit of romance.” He joked, rocking the man in his arms as they both tried to settle again. “Lunch?”

“Give me a minute?” Q’s voice was small, and Bond suspected his shirt was getting damp, but he didn’t complain. Instead, he shifted them over so that he could sit on his arse and lean against the bed. “Shit. I can’t believe you said yes.”

“Really?” Bond asked, warmth filling his tone as he grinned up at the roof.

“Well, yes… But I’ve been getting myself worked up about how to ask. It was Eve who told me to pick somewhere to go on holiday and ask while we were away.” Q’s trembles were subsiding as the other cuddled in. “The nicest cruises were out here, but they all start in America, but you’re worth more than a return flight on an aeroplane, so I braved it.”

“And we have week once we’ve landed to check you over… for stress, of course.”

He pressed a kiss to Q’s neck, resisting the urge to ease him to the floor a skip food altogether, but Q’s stomach let of a grumble which broke the mood.

“I’ve been so nervous that I haven’t been able to eat.” He explained, face red as Bond helped him up.

“Well, we should go and celebrate!” and with another kiss, the two set off, both still wearing large grins.


	10. Something Ancient

“007, are you there? 007? Please respond.” There was a tremble in Q’s voice that wasn’t quite hidden by the bad connection. “007? Bond!?”

“Q…” Bond wheezed out painfully, rolling over with a groan. 

“Report!”

“I fell down a bloody great hole.” He sat up gingerly, eyes flitting about to take in where he was. “Q? I can barely see where I fell from… I’m a long way down.”

“You’re most the way up a mountain, Bond… Are you at the bottom?” 

“At the bottom of the hole? Hopefully. At the bottom of the mountain? I have no idea.” The tiny spot of light at the top didn’t offer much illumination. 

“I gave you a torch. Pretty basic I’m afraid, but the battery will last a very long time.” Q’s voice seemed small. He wondered if it was fear he could hear in the Quartermaster’s voice, or just the static that changed his interpretation.

“Were you planning for this, Q?” He fished the device out of his bag, it was a head torch so he strapped it on and pressed the button. 

“No. But I thought that if you got stuck in a snowstorm or something then you’d need light.”

“I think I’m in a cave. It looks like part of a passageway, with something of a rock fall behind me. I must have come through the roof of it.” It felt like he had come through the roof, his whole body ached in a way that he’d recently managed to avoid and his left hip and shoulder were likely going to be badly bruised later. 

“A cave system? Well, be careful where you step. Don’t want you to fall again.”

“I’m head off.” He tugged the compass out his pocket. “The passage goes West, which leads further into the mountain, but there’s no way to climb back up and I don’t want to risk making things worse by trying to free up the passage going East.”

“Understood. We’ll do what we can about your mission from here and will get some people over to the village to start looking for you.”

It would be highly lucky if they would him just by looking around the edges of the mountain, but Bond didn’t say so. Instead, he had a sip of water before moving carefully along the passage. There were animal bones here and there, stalactites of varying sizes hanging from the cave roof and Bond had already dodged around numerous stalagmites growing upwards and more than a few columns where they had joined together. Occasionally, he could hear shuffling behind him, but he couldn’t see anything when he turned around; probably just more creatures. 

Q Branch had gone quiet though, making Bond suspect that the already weak signal had been unable to survive his trek deeper into the mountain. The cave itself took a turn and began to head north, the path dipping into a steep incline for nearly a kilometre but then it opened out into an enormous cave.

Feeling very much like Indiana Jones, the agent began to walk through. There weren’t steps on the way down, nor somewhere to light a fire and have it illuminate the whole room, but his torch was powerful enough to show him that someone had once lived here. 

There were crumbling structures that may have been houses, paths laid out with what may once have been smoother stone before the stalagmites had begun to form, there were several intact pillars amongst the broken ones holding the remains of what may have been a water system, based on the moss that was growing on it; because it was warm enough to moss in this ancient, underground world, the heat of the mountain and the protection from the elements made a dramatic difference in the climate. 

The agent wandered over to one of the structure and glanced within. The roof had long since collapsed, but even if it had been up, Bond supposed the place was so old and musty that he wouldn’t have been able to recognise the different rooms anyway. There was nothing like looked like a fire pit from here and whatever might have made up the beds was long gone. 

The next few buildings were the same, but Bond had gotten his phone out to record some video of the place now… Not that he could hand it over to anyone if he did get out; he was on a secret mission, after all. He took photos as well, trying to capture as much of this place on his phone’s memory as he could, awed despite the fact that he normally had little interest in ancient history.

Further in, he spotted a small, intact jar in one of the rooms of a larger buildings that he’d dared to venture into. There were broken ones around, but he couldn’t quite resist having a look at this one.

Inside, it held a grubby, circular thing… perhaps a pendant, as it had a mucky gem in the middle? It was hard to say as he really was no kind of an archaeologist. There was also a bit of stiff cloth too which had a strong smell to it that made the man turn his head and something that looked like a broach.

Hesitating for a moment, Bond removed his outer coat, then his outer fleece, using the latter to carefully wrap the objects up. He left the pot itself behind after taking a photo, it was a delicate thing with pictures cared into it and he didn’t want to smash it up by putting it into his bag with the other bits.

“I do need to get out.” He breathed softly, unable to raise his voice in the dark of this old, delicate ruin. 

Thankfully, there was an obvious path that led to another passage. This was still heading north, but hopefully that meant he’d be getting out eventually. Setting back off on the trek and grinning slightly when the temperatures began to dip, Bond finally managed to scramble his way up to another hole, not as high up as the one he had fell into. It was approaching dawn when he saw the sky once more and the relief of it threatened to collapse his legs, but the agent forced himself on, later smiling at the help that had arrived for him, but he kept quiet about the ancient objects. He’d tell Q when he saw the young man, but they felt private in a way that he couldn’t explain.

Besides, secret missions were ruined if people found you’d brought back stuff of great value and starting flocking there. Best keep it quiet for now.


	11. A Time You were Burned

Bond stared morosely out the window, a half-finished glass of whisky held in a loose grip; a little sweeter than he preferred, but he sipped it regardless… He wasn’t drinking it for the flavour, after all. Not tonight.

It was six years since she had died. Since she had taken the money and tried to hand it over to someone else. Since she had proven herself to be an enemy of England.

He took a sip and tried not to regret everything. 

This was the first year that M hadn’t sent him to a meeting with the psych department, apparently he was supposed to be over it. They’d never said much useful though. Only once had they ever given him pause for thought, when they had repeated something M had told him after the bitch had died; but Bond had still been too closed off for her words to register then. It was the following year, when the idea had been brought up again.

Vesper had betrayed England to save Bond’s life. She’d heard him being tortured and had made a deal with those people. 

It had taken time for Bond to be able to consider what she had done without the bitterness directed at his past, naïve self overwhelming his thought process, before he could think about anything but how stupid he had been to ever trust someone so completely. However, he had eventually considered the fact that she had done it to save him. 

In a way, he could accept that she wasn’t an agent, trained to ignore the pain of others, but she could have bargained or made another deal. She’d been ice cold when he had first met her, so he know she could do it. Besides, if she had known him, had understood him at all, then she would have realised that he would have preferred death to betrayal. You don’t negotiate with terrorists. He had since spent time at the hands of terrorists, had been there until he had found his own way out. MI6 didn’t barter for his release, because there were lines that should never be crossed. He should have been left behind by Vesper until he had escaped or died for himself. 

And then, rather than telling him what she had done, she’d lied. He’d given up his career, his life for her and in return she had lied to him, making plans to betray his country behind his back. Of all the options she had had, she had gone for the one had had hurt the most. There has been other ways to deal with it, such as ignoring the debt she owed and then facing it with an assassin by her side. She could have told Bond from the start and he could have worked either by himself or with MI6 to eliminate the threat. She could have made the deal then walked away and left Bond behind, rather than pretending that everything was as it should have been.

So now, years on, Bond had learnt his lesson; he flirted with women, slept with them but he refused to get attached. 

His attention drifted to the window again, still trying not to regret but unable to deny that he wished he had saved her.

If she had lived, he would have let her go; however it would have been easier. They could have parted in anger and he still would have refused to trust anyone he slept with again, but the acidic regret that burnt through his body, the memory of her wide eyes and reaching hand... Well, he wouldn’t have been so haunted by them. 

The jarring ringtone of his mobile phone pulled his thoughts away from her and Bond glanced at the screen before answering. 

“You’re being called in, Bond. I hope you have your case for Turkey packed, we have you a seat next to a junior colleague. She’ll be assisting you.” Tanner was on the phone, his tone mild but the fact that he was even hinting at details let Bond knew he was heading straight out again. A woman to assist him, right on Vesper’s anniversary? It felt like the world was mocking him, but hopefully this one wouldn’t burn him. She wouldn’t. He’d vowed never to open his heart to someone like that again. “I’ll give you the details when you arrive.”

“Understood.” His glass was set, unfinished on the side table and headed into his bedroom to prepare.


	12. Perspective

Bond watched in silence as the new 001 was outfitted by Q, the newly promoted 00 agent almost vibrating with excitement as the Quartermaster held out his PPK. 

“Then you’ll need a radio and your earwig. You’re also going to need a new tracker.” Q stated as he tapped away at his tablet.

“I already have one.” The agent, Harry, replied in confusion.

“You’ve been promoted, congratulations. You get to have a high-tech tracker implanted to replace the basic one you have.” Q deadpanned, but the other man just nodded uncertainly. However, Bond snorted slightly, causing Q to glance at him with a grin on his face. “Terry will get you sorted. Mr Williams? If you’ll take 001 to get his new tracker.”

“Alright. I set the room up early.” The tall, blond man led the new agent away and Q turned to Bond.

“007.” He greeted with a smile.

“Q.” He stepped forwards and glanced around. “Got anything good for me?”

“You agents are all the same. You’re only after me for my explosives.” Q sighed in a put-on voice as he led Bond across the lab. 

“Oh, not just those Quartermaster. I appreciate all your tech.” He joked, flicking his eyes over Q’s slender body before turning to look at a hand gun that was clamped into an upright position on a work desk, tools gathered on a small, microfiber cloth. 

Q hummed slightly but turned to pick up a small box. “This time Bond, it is apparently Christmas.” And he held it out.

Confused, but far more successful at keeping it off his face than 001, Bond opened it. “A pen?” Q waited, a smirk touching the corner of his mouth. Bond recalled their first meeting, several years earlier. “An exploding pen?”

“Indeed.” Q was smirking outright as Bond picked the pen up with great interest. “You need to press your thumb here,” long, cool fingers moved Bond’s digit into position, “and then click it three times.”

“And disarming it?” 

“Click it again and place your index finger here.” Q touched his hands again, moving the pen around. “As though you’re holding it in your fist.”

“Anything else?” Bond asked, sliding the pen into his suit jacket as Q picked up a tray.

“Mobile phone, this one is yours and had the more useful apps.”

“001 isn’t getting the same?”

“I’m afraid I’m not willing to hand out hacking technology over to anyone until I know them better.” Q stated flatly.

Bond frowned as he pocketed the phone as well. “I would have thought you would trust M’s judgment. He made Mr Myers a 00 agent.”

“And Mr Silva was once a trusted agent.” Q’s eyes were haunted as he lifted them up to look at Bond. “I won’t let anything like that happen again.”

“Q… That wasn’t your fault.” 

“I thoroughly underestimated him. I had considered updating the firewalls for MI6 before you had even left for that mission in Turkey, but the previous Q had told me to focus my energies on other things. If I’d just stayed late for a while, then they wouldn’t have gotten those lists in the first place. Then, I went and linked Silva’s laptop up to our systems and let him escape… An awful lot of it seems like my fault.” Q hung his head for a moment and Bond considered him for a moment; taking the time to seriously consider any blame Q might be obliged to take.

“I would think that the previous Q was the one to blame for not letting you update the firewalls. You not deciding to ignore him and do your own thing is actually what is meant to happen. I know fine well you would castigate anyone who tried doing stuff behind your back in Q Branch.”

“I… perhaps. I just feel I could have done more.”

“Tell me you were trying to unlock Silva’s laptop for selfish reasons then.”

“What? No! Mallory told me to decrypt it to see if we could see if he had anymore sensitive information and how far his network went.”

“Then, I don’t see how you can take any blame, Q.” Bond pressed his shoulder, getting the young man to look at him again. “Don’t let the past drag you down.”

“Normally I don’t.” Q grumbled as he visibly pulled himself back together. “But you seem to bring the worst out of me.”

“It’s a gift.” He laughed as Q handed over Bond’s radio and weapon.

“Why can’t you be more like 001? He’s ever so eager to please me.” Q’s phrasing caught up with him a moment later and he flushed deeply, but held Bond’s gaze as though nothing was amiss. 

“Eager? He’s like a child, an irritating mixture of excited and nervous.” Bond scoffed as he watched 001 chat to Williams. “It’s painful to think that he’d meant to be a 00 when he’s showing so much on his face.”

Q laughed as he too turned to watch the other men. “Like you were always the epitome of suave.” 

“Always!”

“I seem to recall an experienced 00 agent throwing a sulk because he didn’t get enough toys.”

“You recall no such thing.” Bond was laughing too as he picked up a hand-held device with a screen on it. “And I didn’t need babysitting on my first overseas mission as a 00.”

“No one did babysit you, but I’m fairly sure you should have been. You blew up an embassy, didn’t you?”

Bond, as an experienced 00, managed not to wince. “Been reading mission reports? You must have been in primary school then.”

“Piss off. I was at uni, but my Grandfather was not the last Q but the one before. I visited a lot. He said you were the surliest man ever to receive a promotion.” Q snatched the device back, carefully putting it down before looking over at 001. “You two really are different. Probably for the best though, one of you is quite enough.”

“It feels like a long time ago that I got promoted. Nearly a decade now…”

“Does it make you realise how far you’ve come? You sometimes actually obey your orders now.” Q asked lightly, before stepping forward to greet 001 again and give him the rest of his equipment.

But Bond found that his perspective towards the 00 status had in fact changed. Back when he’d first been promoted, it had been thrilling; the work, the gadgets, the fact that he walked among crowds with the knowledge that he was a spy… but now it had changed, he was something of a battered, old bugger; he still enjoyed the thrill of the chase, but the secrets he held were no longer something that made him walk a little taller. 

If anything, his secrets now made him stoop slightly. It wasn’t as though he disliked his job; he simply didn’t find the same joy in it. Perhaps he’d matured, but he only kept doing it because he was capable of nothing else. He was a spy and an assassin and he would serve Queen and country hopefully until his death… Because his understanding of retirement had changed. It was no longer a faint rumble in the far off distance, but a dark cloud looming over him. 

It was hard to realise that nothing would be the same forever, but for the moment at least, the 00 agent was content to ignore that fact.


	13. Something You Wish to Reclaim

Bond grinned from where he was crouched behind a barrel as he watched the newest boffin in Q Branch glance around and tremble. Slowly, he raised his weapon. 

“Kyle? Come on.” Another boffin yelled from over to Bond’s left. Neither of them had seen him, so with soft treads, he moved into a better position and once again raised his gun. 

A moment later and it was done; the two boffins had been shot, bright splodges of blue paint on their chests as the 00 agent quietly left.

The bonding exercise was actually a recent thing that Mallory had brought about when he had taken over as M. They did it every 6 months and it was those at MI6 with high enough security clearance that got to join in. Each division had a particular colour and certain members of that department had a certain shade; for example Q Branch had sap green pellets, R had mint green and Q had forest green. Mallory alone had yellow. The 00s were all blue, but each of them had a particular shade. 

Not everyone got to participate though as sometimes they were caught up with others things. There were only six 00s this time as others were undercover or on active missions. About a dozen members of Q Branch were missing as they were busy assisting the active missions. Q had attended the very first one, missed the next two and had won the rest of them.

Bond didn’t like coming in second place. He played the part of a graceful loser, smiling and shaking Q’s hand, but then he headed off with vague plans for the next bi-annual game. 

This time, 007 was systematically wiping out Q Branch, making sure Q had fewer bodies to hide behind. In a paintballing game where the department or individual with the most ‘kills’ was the winner. Q always managed to beat the 00 division as a whole and so had most people after him this time. 

Bond wanted to reclaim his title of victor, which he had collected after the first three games. 

There was just one problem with this plan; they were more hour in and no one had seen Q yet. The agent had spotted numerous walking corpses with Q’s shade on them, but they all claimed to have been sniped from somewhere they hadn’t seen. 

The thought admittedly sent something of a thrill through the man, who genuinely appreciated competence and rather liked seeing it in the Quartermaster. 

As he made his way silently through the grounds, carefully checking his surroundings as he went, Bond to a moment to imagine Q crouched on high, his safety goggles glinting as he aimed. The thought of it was wonderful, but it didn’t deter Bond from his mission at all. Another shot and Moneypenny was taken out. She swore at him as she laughed and headed off, pointing subtly East.

Again, Bond was stalking decisively through the training grounds, determined to bring about the end of Q’s reign. He paused soon enough, taking shelter behind a crate as he watched Tanner and Mallory trudged passed him with forest green marking them. 

He smirked and hurried on. He would not lose this year. 

Pausing as he reached a clearing, Bond looked around. Was that-? He raised his weapon, eyes glinting as he fired.

“Ah, shit.” Q swore softly. “Was that you, 007?”

“Yes it was.” His voice dropping with pleasure as he grinned with his teeth at the Quartermaster. 

Q hummed and have Bond a mild smile. “Well done.” It sounded genuine, but the young man's eyes were gleaming in a way that made him suspicious. “How long have you been looking for me?”

“Two bloody hou-Ah!” he yelped as a pellet hit his back, he whipped around to see R laughing triumphantly. “Bloody hell!”

“Tea?” Q asked, as though he hadn’t intentionally distracted Bond.

“Not a chance. They’d better serve half decent coffee though.” He couldn’t stand tea. 

“With this many caffeine addicts around? Of course they do.”

The two men set off, but it wasn’t until when he was staring at the scoreboard later on that Bond realised his mistake in going solely after Q. 

The scoreboard read:

1st – Quartermaster  
2nd – 00 division   
3rd – 007

He hadn’t even managed 2nd this year.

“Well, you can’t win them all. The lesson in humility will do you good.” Q announced from behind him.

“Well done again, Q.” He reached out to clasp the slender hand. “I’ll have that title back next time though.”

“Indeed? Best of luck with that.” And Q turned away, heading down the corridor back to his lair.

He would reclaim it next time. He just needed new tactics.


	14. A Joyful Moment in your Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking a few days... Star Wars happened.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea, Bond.” Q stated, attempting to glare at the retired agent but only managing to look miserable.

“It sounds like a brilliant one to me.” Bond replied, determination flooding him as he stared down at the younger man.

Q’s hands gripped the sides of his laptop as he dropped his gaze. “I… I would have thought you’d blame me for…” Q’s voice softened too much to hear, his shoulders hunched in defensively as he continued to watch their feet.

“Q?” Bond stepped forward, cupping a finger under his chin and forcing him to look up. “You aren’t the only one who said that I wasn’t fit to continue as 007.”

“No. But I might have been the only one who knew what it meant to you.” His voice was a tad higher than normal as he blatantly showcased his guilt and misery.

Bond slid his palm along the Quartermaster’s jaw to bury his fingers in wild hair. “It was painful to hear, I’ll admit. For some time, I was angry…” He took a deep breath and looked straight into the younger man’s eyes. “But you were right. If I have to do this again in five years, I’ll just spend the next five years dreading this moment.”

“You’d be less likely to reach this moment.” Q’s voice was small as he confessed part of the reason he’d said Bond shouldn’t be allowed to continue. 

“Now I have many more moments to have.” He watched Q’s lips quirk slightly into a small smile. “However, I need something to fill them in with, so I’ll ask again. Will you let me take you on a date?”

“But you’re moving.” Q stepped back and Bond let his hand drop away. “You’re not moving to Herefordshire or Buckinghamshire. You’re going to Cumbria. It’s not close by. I don’t want to date you when you’re just going to go away.”

“There are cars and there are trains.” He pointed out softly. Perhaps it was cruel to ask Q to date him. The young man had been smitten with him for some time, but Bond hadn’t looked at it as anything serious. However, Madeline had had one conversation with Q after the whole mess with Blofeld and it had apparently been enough for her to see the truth.

“That boy in London is in love with you.” She had informed him, her shouts and complaints at him bluntly telling her that he couldn’t be with her having faded into a woman who’d accepted the truth and could wish people well. Her objections had been to the way he’d broken up with her, Bond had noted after she had gone, but not about leaving the old house he had bought; she wanted to live somewhere warm anyway. 

“Boy?” He’d answered in confusion as he watched her pack. 

“Q.” and she’d stared at him in a way that dared him to deny what she had seen.

“It’s a crush. It happens.” And on a more regular basis than he’d have expected all those years ago, when he’d first been promoted. “People see the 00s as something exciting that they want a piece of, someone who jets all over the world and stays in exotic places. They see the vague idea and don’t realise any of the details.” Mainly that they were an unstable bunch often combined with trigger happy fingers and short tempers.

“No. He loves you.” She had then scowled fiercely at him. “Tell me he doesn’t know who you are. Tell me he doesn’t understand the problems of your job, from the stress of it all to the vile motels you also stay in.”

“He…” 

But she had interrupted Bond’s hesitant reply. “He still loves you, even after getting on a plane and flying for you; even after being chased by Oberhauser’s men; even after the restrictions your M has placed on him for lying about something important in the first place.”

Bond had gaped at her then, unsure how to answer to such firm points. “How do you know about what happened to him?”

She had scoffed again, flicking her hair over her shoulder and she rounded on him again. “Apparently he needed someone to ask the right questions. Your psych department must be a joke! He needed to talk to someone about what had happened and there had been no one willing to listen. You need to go back to London and take that boy on a date.”

Bond had opened his mouth to defend the psych department, although he scoffed at them, didn’t mean they were totally incompetent. “They have a rivalry thing going on…” They’d made a few members of Q Branch cry a while back and Q had gotten his revenge by having the speakers in the break room play ghostly noises at random points in time. He’d terrified more than one of them. It had been war between the psych department and the Quartermaster ever since then.

“No excuse. You take him out. He did all this for you.”

And a month later, Bond was stood in front of his former colleague, trying to ask him on this date.

“Q, please. I’m not asking as a joke, or a way to mock you. I’m not thinking about a one-off date, or sex… I want to date you, to spend time with you, both here and in Cumbria with whatever time you can spare. The Lake District is beautiful, maybe it’ll help you to relax to get out a London when you have days off.”

“But why? You’ve never been interested in me before.” Q still looked confused and defensive, so Bond took a moment to consider the question seriously. 

“Because you make me laugh.” He said eventually. “Because you are interesting. You try to teach me things, even when they don’t go in. You are a snarky little shit who doesn’t stand down when I argue. You’re better with cars than I am and I actually do enjoy listening to you when you talk about them. You’re shit at gambling and have no poker face but paintballing you still leave me in your dust. Because you are attractive and sarcastic and someone I find I can relax around.”

That had been Madeline’s final point when she had gotten out the car; that when she’d watched the two of them chatting at MI6, Bond had been more relaxed than she had ever seen him. It wasn’t just Q in love with Bond, but Bond was gone on his Quartermaster too.

“Wh- really?” Q asked, eyes wide as Bond finished.

“Yes. So, let me take you on a date.”

Q’s shoulders relaxed as his eyes explored Bond’s face. “I… alright then.” He nodded firmly and gripped his tablet tighter. 

“Good. Then I’ll pick you up at seven.” He leaned closer to brush a kiss across Q’s forehead. The closeness was the only reason he caught Q’s next comment. 

“No sex on a first date though.” He stepped back and saw that Q was grinning. He was supposed to catch that.

“I’ll be an absolute gentleman.” He assured the younger man.

Q eyed him curiously for a moment. “You can have a try, I guess.”

“Piss off.” He laughed, a wide grin on his face and he turned and headed for the door. “And I’ll see you tonight.”


	15. To Nourish Someone's Soul

Nourishing your soul was the New Age kind of bullshit that Bond usually scoffed at, the kind of nonsense that people went for to feel good about themselves.

However, in his year and a half of living in the Lake District, he had encountered numerous groups on yoga retreats and those visiting for finding some inner peace. Typically, he ignored them. He just kept an eye on Bonnie and Sylvester as they passed (Q was responsible for naming their old English sheep dog) to make sure no one gained an unexpected friend but otherwise he walked passed them. Nonetheless, he did sometimes over hear conversations. 

“And while we consider what it means to nourish our own soul, we must consider those around us as well.” The woman had informed her group as they all sat on their mats out by Tarn Hows. “Very few people live in isolation and so we after the spirits of others. Take a moment to think, who do you interact with? Have you seen a change in their soul over time? How have you affected them?”

She’d continued to prattle on, but when Bond had been sat in the pub with the dog later, her words came back to him. He had a handful of friends here, none of whom he was terribly close to and none of them had changed much in the time he had known them.

At work? It was hard to say. He hadn’t been there in a long time but the only one who had changed around him was Q.

At first, the young man had been filled with guilt, working ridiculous hours in a combination of blaming himself for not stopping Silva and the need to prove he was worthy of being Q. After that had settled down, there had been various different sides to Q; the professional side he showed to most agents, the patient side he had when teaching others, the decidedly more impatient side he showed when people weren’t working to his standard. With Bond, he had always displayed a sense of humour, decidedly sharper when over the comms and always endearingly awkward when in person; the Quartermaster had generally half stumbled over his words when Bond had been there, a trait that he had put down to puppy love. 

And now, Bond mused as he lay in bed beside the young man, Q still had that odd sense of humour but he also a confidence that shone through. 

“Why are you thinking?” Q asked roughly, his face still mostly buried in the pillow. 

“Nourishment.” Bond replied without really thinking about his words; his attention split between Q’s bare skin and how much his lover had grown since they had first met in that gallery.

Q turned his head enough to peek at Bond without actually lifting it. “You’re hungry already?” 

Bond grinned at the glare Q was attempting while he was half asleep. “Yeah. Come on. It is nearly six you know.” He wasn’t going to get into discussion on the growth of someone’s soul before his lover had gotten his brain to move. Conversations this early were never complex and Q rarely remembered them.

“Piss off.” Came the reply he had been expecting at Q turned away and quickly drifted back off. 

“A little later then.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to Q’s nape and rolling out of bed to let the dogs out.


	16. Water

“Just make sure he has plenty to drink. Little and often if you can. Regular paracetamol and let him rest.” 

The doctor’s voice was calm, soothing in a way those at medical never had been... But he’d generally only visited medical for his own health, not someone else's. 

“Cool, hydrated, resting and drugged up.” Bond summarised, ignoring the doctor’s disapproving noise at his phrasing. “I can do that.”

“Good luck, Mr Bond.” 

“Ok. Thank you. Bye.” He hung up, pocketing his phone and hurried through to the kitchen. 

The first thing was paracetamol, he needed to let that get to work. Q usually slept like a log the first night he came up to Cumbria, the fresh air and train ride tiring him out; however last night the younger man had tossed and turned restlessly, until he had gotten up and gone to sleep on the sofa with the window open. Bond had left him to it when the younger man had explained that he was just a bit too warm. It was late autumn but the remains of the summer heat hadn’t totally gone. 

In the morning, he had gone through to gone Q asleep on the sofa with both dogs curled up on the floor beneath him, in danger of getting stood on if Q got up quickly.

However, the young man hadn't stirred and only the Labrador had been willing to leave his side in anticipation of breakfast.

So now, with one dog fed (And the other bowl out of Bonnie’s way), Bond collected tablets and water. Q was flat out, causing the older man to hesitate; was he supposed to wake him up for tablets or was it better to let him sleep? Caring for another was not a challenge he had ever encountered as an agent and the lack of experience showed. Thankfully, the only witnesses were two dogs and a sleeping young man so Bond could flounder without fear of losing his reputation. 

“Q?” he said softly, voice above a whisper in an attempt to wake him gently. Q usually went straight back to sleep on a morning anyway so it was better to give him something to get his temperature down. “Q. Wake up a minute for me?”

“James? I don’t feel very well.” Q told him in a very small voice, curling into himself slightly. Something in this upset the dogs, Bonnie pushing her nose into Q’s palm and Sylvester resting his head on the man’s knee, looking up at him with big eyes. 

“I know.” He replied, running a hand over Q’s sweaty head. “I've brought you something to bring the fever down. Sit up for me?”

A hand behind Q’s to help him up and with the young man leaning against his broad chest, Bond was able to get the paracetamol in him. Slowly, he managed to coax Q into drinking the full glass of water, but he dozed off as soon as he was done. 

“I still need to get a wash through.” He remembered as he lay Q back down and left him with the dogs for nursemaids. The bedding in their room was sweaty and there had been a pile of washing to do before Q had taken sick. 

Quietly shuffling around, he did little jobs that needed sorting as he waited for Q to wake again. However, very soon he had nothing to distract himself with; he kept his home tidy anyway so there wasn’t a lot to do. 

“Q? It’s nearly time for tablets again. Do you want to eat something?” 

Q didn’t speak in answer, simply shaking his head as he rolled. A check with the thermometer told the man that his lover's temperature was going up again so he gave him tablets and moved him back to bed, where he had put fresh sheets down.

“You need to drink some water.” He said, holding out a cold glass, but Q just blinked sleepily up at him. 

“Just had some.” He slurred, eyes struggling to focus on the drink in Bond’s hand. 

“It’s good for you, especially if you aren’t eating.” He pointed out, getting Q to sit up again.

“No food.” Q sighed unhappily as he turned to press his face against Bond's neck. “Didn’t come here to be sick.” 

“I know.” He said soothingly, getting the glass to Q’s lips. “It happens.” 

And moments later, Q was once more drifting off. 

“Maybe I’ll make soup.” He murmured, trying to think of something to do that didn’t involve hovering around Q while he slept. “Where did I put that cookbook...?”

As he left the room, the two dogs went in; Sylvester lying on his thick blanket near the door and Bonnie nipping hers to pull it over to beside the bed. 

“You two keep an eye on him for him.” He commanded, aware that they would do so anyway. 

They had most the ingredients in, with the exception of split peas and a roast chicken so he tugged on boots and a coat before heading into town.

“Commander Bond, good afternoon.” One of the elderly ladies that lurked around the supermarket greeted him. “Where is your young man? I thought you said he was visiting?”

“Sick.” Bond told her quickly, before she could start ranting about the delays on the train line and how shameful these railway companies were; it was a favourite rant of hers that Bond had heard more than once.

“Oh dear. What’s the matter?”

“Just a high fever. I’m getting stuff to make some soup.” He explained, trying to edge his way passed without being rude.

“You’ll be worrying, I’m sure. A dram of father's whiskey, that’s what my mother used to give me when I was sick. Burns away the illness, you know.” Bond was still taking small steps away, trying to leave. “These days though, doctors say it’s better to just have water. Water! There is no burn when water goes down, what’s healing about that? I ask you!”

“Yes, but I really must be getting on. I don’t want to leave him for too long.” And Bond hurried away before she could reply.

The shopping itself took very little time, as he moved quickly back out when he left to avoid another conversation. However, it was while he was cooking that his mind drifted to water.

A thing of both life and death; it was necessary to live, but balance was essential. Too much and you drowned, too little and dehydration was the result; he’d seen people die both ways and neither were pretty.

But water was something he loved too. For all he had worked the last ten years of his career as a 00, and the five years before that as a junior agent, he had been active in the Navy until he’d been Q’s age. He loved the water, be it for swimming in or sailing, but it was something he had fallen out of. 

He lived in the Lake District though, so while there was no challenge in sailing out here, there was no reason he couldn’t buy a boat... And when Q was well again, he could always bring him and the dogs out on the water too. Their pets thought they were water animals any way with how often they went for a swim in their walks. 

For the moment though, the only water he would worry about was the water he was trying to get into his lover. Plans for relaxing in the future could wait.


	17. Friendship

“At least my friends didn’t feel the need to chat to anyone who would buy them a drink.” Bond mocked as the shifted. 

He had been captured and was now stretched out, only just able to keep his feet flat on the floor as his arms were chained up to the kind of hook that animal carcasses hung from.

“Your _friends,_ ” the man beating him spat, “are acquaintances and colleagues and people you fuck. You don’t have friends.”

While they had been very effective at beating him, they had forgotten one rather important thing;

“If he doesn’t think you can be friends with your colleagues then he must be a right miserable bastard at work.”

They had forgotten to take his earwig, hadn’t even looked for it and so Bond had had Q chattering away in his ear the whole time. For all that he had been tortured before, it didn't generally happen with something to distract himself. He wasn’t at risk of talking, their best man had nothing on others he had been captured by, and although he wouldn’t say he enjoyed being held like this; there was something novel about having Q mock the man trying to get information out of him. 

“Friends...” he muttered softly, eyes staring at the floor as he waited for the man to leave again.

“You have friends, 007. And you win them over quite quickly.” Q’s voice was firm in its conviction, which was bizarrely comforting in response to something he’d never considered a problem before. Why should he care if he had friends? He was here to keep safe Queen and country.

He hummed gently in response to let the Quartermaster know he was listening.

“Or do you think I would risk my career for someone I didn’t like?” Q’s voice was biting, as though Bond had disagreed but Bond knew could also hear him cover his mic to snarl at his minions. His bad mood was more likely to be his frustration at them.

“I know.” He whispered as his captor left the cell and the heavy clunk of a key rang out.

“Are you alone now?”

“Yes.”

“Right. We have your location because they only took your visible tech so I’ve got 0010 on his way. He’s actually in the country for another mission at the moment but it’s not time-sensitive.” 

“He won’t be happy.” Bond murmured; he was tired, having held this position since early morning. He didn’t want to ask the time now, but it was definitely into the afternoon.

“I don’t care.” Q replied flatly, in a response that Bond didn’t expect. “For all I consider you a friend, 007 and I enjoy talking to you, 0010 is not in the same boat.”

“Did he break something important?” Bond chuckled slightly, trying for humour to distract himself.

“He thought he could intimidate me to get his own way.” Q replied in a tight voice. “And now he doesn’t get any fun tech.”

“There's fun tech? Q! I’m hurt. You’ve been holding back on me.” Bond complained, a genuine smile touching his lips. 

“Friends or not, you need a better return rate first.” Q’s voice was amused and the clatter of his keyboard started up again. “Oh, thank you Miss Jones.”

“Tea?” Bond guessed. 

“There is a reason the British Empire was built on this stuff.” Q answered lifting before Bond heard him hiss. “Ah, hot.”

“Hot mud. Lovely.” Bond grumbled, but scoffing like he normally did was difficult.

“Mud – blah blah – downfall of the Empire – blah – isn’t coffee wonderful.” Q dropped his voice to a low grumble as he imitated Bond. “So you’ve said.”

Bond laughed, his ribs twinging slightly but he couldn’t fight back his grin. “Exactly, Q. You ought to just bin it.”

“I’m willing to take back what I said about being friends so watch yourself, 007.” Q informed him, audibly trying not to laugh too.

“I’m just trying to help a friend out.”

“I’m going to give medical new restraints that you can’t break out of... in the interest of my friend, of course.” Q laughed. “Now play nice. 0010 is here and the medical team is another ten minutes out.”


	18. Restlessness

James sighed as he flicked through his book. He hadn’t read this one but his mind wasn’t on the crimes of Victorian Scotland. 

He was restless, he knew. Life had come to a stand still and it was starting to get a little boring.

“James? Are you alright?” Q looked up from his own book to watch his husband, pushing his new, thin glasses back up his nose.

“Fine.” He replied as pleasantly as he could while he could feel himself stagnating. He still didn’t like the idea that Q might think he was bored, couldn't help but worry about the risk of residual guilt.

“If you don’t want to read then why not you look for a new car to fix up?” he suggested, eyes dropping back to his book as he spoke.

“Can’t say I’m in the mood for it.” He replied in a flirty tone, but Q just raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Then take Bonnie out for a walk while I finish my book. The cold air will help your.. mood.” He grinned slightly as he glanced at his lover's crotch, but went back to reading. 

“I think I want a holiday.” He decided. A chance to leave England behind for a while and enjoy something other than rain and grey skies for a few weeks. 

“A holiday?” Q looked puzzled. “Where to?”

“I’m not sure. Somewhere with a bit of sun.”

“How long will you be gone?” Q asked softly, putting a bookmark in before shutting the story he’d been reading.

“As long as we want.” Then he realised what Q had said. “Bloody hell, love. You’d be coming with me.”

Relief and fear flirted over his husband's face for a moment. “In an aeroplane?” 

“It depends. If we were going to take a few weeks... Do you have anywhere you’ve always wanted to go?” Their last few breaks away had been on ships, but that was because James was the one who enjoyed them.

A sad expression formed as Q looked down. “I’ve always wanted to see the seven wonders of the modern world and the one remaining ancient wonder.”

“We can try. It’ll be a long trip so you don’t have to spend the whole time half drugged to get through the flights but we can.” It was no wonder Q looked unhappy; the sites were in all around the world, from Mexico to China to Italy and then the Great Pyramid was in Egypt. It would be a lot of travelling.

“It’s a daft thought anyway.” Said Q dismissively, opening up his book again. “You've been to all those places and have probably seen them anyway.” 

This was going to happen, James stood up and grabbed his tablet and his phone before disappearing into the den.

On the phone, he quickly got through to Q Branch. His husband had stepped down from being the Quartermaster but those in Q Branch would still do anything for him. Ten minutes later, he headed back through and went to start on dinner. The new Quartermaster had promised to get a generous itinerary sorted with the flights and hotels booked. 

Bonnie was an elderly dog now and had been miserable since Sylvester had died and James stopped to let her as he headed into the kitchen.

“Do you think we should get another dog?” Q’s voice distracted him for a moment, his question a surprise. Q had been devastated when Sylvester had died, claiming that having had his remaining cat die a few years ago (The other having died in the busy London traffic not long after Bond had left with Madeline and before he had gotten to know the Quartermaster’s pets) and then the dog was too much and he wasn’t going to have another one ever again.

“I’m happy to have another.” He replied, pulling out a pan. “I think the company might do Bonnie some good.” It would have to wait till they got back though. 

“Maybe a mutt. They are supposed to live longer.” Q grumbled before James could hear the laptop starting up.

“Wait until after Christmas. You always get the pets that were supposed to be presents.” Plus they wouldn’t be back till after Christmas and he didn’t want to leave new dogs in the kennels they used. 

“But then were likely to come away with a whole pack.” Q said softly and James chuckled. It was probably true, they had nearly managed that when they had gotten Bonnie and Sylvester and had seen all the other dogs waiting for a new owner.

“After Christmas.” He repeated at the restlessness that had been bubbling inside fully dissolved.


	19. Asking for Something

James stood staring intently at his parents' bedroom door, trying hard to work up his courage. 

Last time Andrew Bond had been in Skyfall, he had promised to take James for a day to do things together. While the boy had no idea what this might entail, he was desperate to give it a try. His father had arrived on Thursday afternoon and it was now Saturday morning; James had known he would be tired after his flight so hadn’t mentioned anything yesterday, but surely now they could head out and do something.

He wasn’t sure what sort of stuff his father had planned, but he was good at all sorts of activities. He was one of the best cross-country runners in his school and quite enjoyed getting mud splattered up his legs, so it might be fun if they headed out to do some kind of running. He was also fairly strong and tall enough to manage some of the obstacle courses that the school occasionally set up; he was the second tallest boy in P7, and the third tallest pupil in his primary school so he was good at pulling himself up and over the walls that were erected.

James was also a fair hand at shooting, Kincade having taught him how to hold a gun steady and his aim was improving all the time. In some situations, such as at fair grounds, he was probably one of the best marksmen that the stall owners encountered. He’d only been sailing once, but he knew that his father enjoyed the activity so perhaps that... 

Standing and staring at the door with his mind racing, James didn’t notice Sally until she silently pressed a hand to his shoulder and beckoned him away. 

“We're meant to be doing something today.” James told her once they were in the kitchen, defending himself before she could speak.

The housekeeper smiled gently at him and she pulled out a bowl and cracked two eggs into it. “I know, but your father isn’t an early riser like you.”

“But I’ve been up for ages.” He whined unhappily, eyes tracking the woman as she beat the eggs. He’d been up just before seven, as usual but it was after ten now. His father was sleeping the whole day away and apparently his mother was inclined to do so as well. It was particularly disappointing as his mother was normally up just after eight and she would have been allowed into the bedroom to tell his father to get up.

“Your father was up late.” Sally countered with a fond smile as she watched the boy sulk. “He works very hard when he is away so he likes to come home, see you mother and relax.” 

James just pulled a face. “I bet he hasn't even remembered that we were going to spend time together. He probably said that just to make me shut up last time.” He was perfectly aware that adults often tried to placate unhappy children with vague plans for the future. He had been hoping that his father hadn’t done that.

“I’m sure he has something lovely planned for the two of you.” She reassured, before James' expression made her sigh. “If you are that worried, just ask when he gets up. If he has forgotten then it’s no good hovering around the edges and hoping it’ll dawn on him.”

“If he ever gets up. We’ve missed most the day already.”

Sally placed the omelette in front of him and moved away to tidy up, an amused quirk to her lips. “Even so, I think it’s best if you put your warm clothes on today. I’ll find your big coat.”

“I will.” But he put his head down as he ate to hide the smile. The housekeeper surely wouldn’t have told him to wrap up warm if he was going to be inside all day.

His food barely touched the sides in going down, according to Kincade who had wandered in to talk to Sally as James breathed it in and scurried out the kitchen, ignoring their laughter at seeing him so animated. 

A shirt and a thick jumper, then his jacket went on the side to go on in a bit. 

“Jeans or slacks...” he wondered out loud as he stood with his bottom half only covered by underpants. 

“Whichever you pick, make sure they’re warm. You’ll be getting waterproof trousers to go over the top.” 

“Father.” James jumped at the voice from his door way, turning to grin at the man. “What are we doing today?”

“What is it you want to do?” asked his father, pulling his pipe out of his dressing gown pocket.

“I don’t care.” James hesitated for a moment before deciding to tell his father what he was after. “I just want... Can we just do something together?” 

“Don’t you worry. We're going to try your hand at sailing today.” He answered calmly, a soft smile touching lips at his son's excitement.

“Thank you!” he cried out, pulling on socks and trousers. 

“Give me half an hour. And remember a hat and gloves. We’re going to be out after dark.”

James ended up being ready long before his father, standing by the front door as the man said goodbye to his wife. 

In the end, the journey wasn’t all James had expected. The trip to the hospital hadn’t been planned but James hadn’t been listened well enough to his father when the seas got rough. 

Sitting in the passenger seat, dripping wet and holding a clearly broken arm, James whimpered unhappily. He was trying hard to stay quiet, slightly frightened of annoying his father further.

However, when they got out the car, the older man took a moment to pull his son close. “Next time, you need to listen.” He said softly, the frustration only a blunt edge in his voice now. 

“Next time?” he asked, pulling back enough to look hopefully up at his father. 

“It mightn’t be for sometime. Maybe summer time so I don't have to worry about pneumonia if you fall in again.” He pressed a warm hand against the side of James' head. “Maybe after your mother and I get back from our climbing holiday in August. Just ask me after that.”

“I will.” He replied seriously, nodding as relief flooded him. This wasn’t the last time they would do something together. He hadn’t messed up too badly.


	20. Being Blessed

“It's no good, Q. It’ll break.” Bond hissed as he watched the soldiers patrolling the street below him.

“It won’t break. It's been blessed.” Q reassured him in his usual calm voice. 

“What a relief that’ll be when I get into a fight and this lovely little statue shatters.” He grouched, fingers curling around his weapon as the man turned their backs. 

“Covert, remember?” Q hissed as he was apparently informed that Bond had gripped his gun to shoot them. 

“This whole thing is nonsense.” He complained as he watched them walk away. 

“I know, but you nearly died on your last mission.” 

“So M decided to give me a milk run?” 

“Maybe you don’t care for it, but the whole thing has been much easier on my nerves.” Q huffed as this fingers audibly tapped away. 

“This is pointless. Who cares about who has this bloody thing?” 

“I told you, it’s filled with very deadly poison and we don't trust them.” Q answered in an almost cheerful voice. “We need to drain it before returning it to Popov.”

“Why he wants the ugly little thing is beyond me.” It really was a squat, ugly statue made by someone who apparently had only heard general descriptions of humans. 

“People are odd about family heirlooms.”

“Speaking from experience, Q?” Not that Bond had any information on his Quartermaster’s family, but he liked to ask every now and again in the hope that Q would let something more slip; all he knew was that Q had been related to a previous Q.

“At least I can say that I haven’t blown up my childhood home.” The young man laughed as the agent slipped down the corridor and into the empty control room.

“I didn’t mean to.” He muttered as he set up his phone so Q could gain access to the systems. 

“You set the explosives. What were you expecting?” Q was laughing again, and somehow his amusement helped ward off the negative feelings he associated with Skyfall.

“It was a spur of the moment thing. Besides, it was already sold to someone else.”

“Is it back up for sale yet? You're good to go now, 007. Back the way you came until you reach the double doors on the right.”

“I ought to look. My parents loved it there.” He never really discussed his family, bog standard agent in that respect but the Quartermaster was easy to talk to. 

“I’m pretty sure MI6 counts as my childhood home with how much time I’ve spent here.” Q mused softly, which still didn’t tell Bond anything new.

“You know,” Bond said conversationally as he moved along, “Mother always said our home was blessed by the Bishop of our area.”

“That’s nice.” Q replied, sounding a little puzzled. 

“I’m just saying... Having something blessed doesn’t keep it in one piece.”

“Perhaps not around you and your luck, but let’s give it a good go anyway.” 

Bond grinned slightly as he hurried through the double doors and off towards the exit. 

“Wasn’t that the easiest mission I’ve ever been on?” he complained as he started up the bike he had arrived on and kicked off. 

“I told you. That statue was blessed.” Q was laughing again. “Don’t sound so disappointed.” 

“Well, it was a bit boring. You have to admit.”

“Well go buy back Skyfall and blow it up again.” 

“I’d have to rebuild it first.” He slowed as he entered town and joined the traffic. 

“That should keep you out of trouble for a while. Looks like it’s previous owner did at least flatten the ground out and relay foundations before he gave up.” 

Bond laughed as Q read the reports of all the trouble that had come with trying to rebuild the old house.

“It’s not blessed, 007. Sounds more like your mother had it cursed.” Q was definitely still smirking. He recognised the tone of voice that went with it. 

“Piss off.” He chuckled as he parked and entered a motel. “I grew up there just fine.”

“Today excluded, you have the worst luck. It may have infected you.” Q sniggered. “You’ll need to use the case I gave you to get that statue through the airport and I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

“I think you'll find that I'm actually blessed. After all, I'm not dead yet. Good night Q.”


	21. Something that Sparkles

“Alright, where next?” Bond whispered as he crouched below a window.

“Err… I’m afraid that once we get you to the main complex then you’ll have to continue on your own from there, there are no maps that I can access, 007.” The hesitant voice informed him over the earwig.

“Just tell me where I need to be right now!” He snapped in frustration, listening to the murmur of voices as people walked passed him, just unable to spot him. “There are cameras around, surely you can access them.”

“I just… It’s usually the Quartermaster…”

“Just do it! You can’t tell me that Q is the only one capable of hacking into these things.” His temper was seriously frayed and Q Branch was not helping.

“Alan? Can you…? Thanks.” He could hear the quiet conversation going as he waited. “No? Can you ask Susie?”

“Oh, fuck this.” He swore, turning and opening the door; with careful aim, the two men half way down the corridor dropped and Bond hurried along.

“007, stop!” The boffin squawked in his ear. “You don’t have permission to-”

“Either give me something useful to work with or shut up!” He snarled in response, taking down a woman who had appeared out of a room with a gun of her own.

The mutterings of Q Branch were muted as the mic was switched off and Bond crept along. He had no idea where he was going and this mission was too important to risk. He methodically worked his way through the building, checking for information as he went; there was a floor map on the fire exit plan, which sped up his movements. Cutting through the shadows and he crossed the large yard, Bond entered the next building by breaking through the glass and sliding inside. A glance around told him there was another floor plan, and while he took a photo of it, none of the rooms were labelled on this one. However, he really didn’t have time to worry about it. People would start noticing that someone had broken in and this mission had to be a success.

The Quartermaster was at stake after all. He had been taken on his commute home by unknown assailants, but they had tracked his online signature here. From what they could tell, he was being forced to hack different systems; nothing too important yet, a lot of old archives and criminal records, some forays into family lines… More than a few boffins had wasted time with trying to work out what Q had been searching for, but M had been furious with them when he realised. Half of the Branch trembled when he came down now, and several had burst into tears when 007 had turned up at the same time as Mallory. 

Bond grabbed a passing man from behind and pressed the barrel of his gun to his nape. “We’re going to have a little talk. In here.” And he jerked the man over to the side.

“Please…” the man wailed, eyes wide and 007 pushed him to the ground. 

“Where are they keeping him?” He growled, weapon inches from the man’s forehead.

The man was visibly trembling. “Who?” His voice was high in terror and he’d one cross-eyed trying to keep focussed on the gun.

“The young man you took by force to hack, where is he?”

“Percy? He’s on the fifth floor. Please…” He curled in on himself. “Please, I’m only here because I need the overtime for my family. Please.”

Bond knocked him out with little care for delicacy. Was Percy the one who had taken Q? A name made it more believable that Q’s kidnapper was after something in particular. Still, Bond took the key card from around the man’s neck and prowled over to the lift. 

The entrance to the fifth floor was lit only by a lamp on the welcome desk in the larger foyer. There was only one corridor with a light on, so Bond silently advanced; he was so close. He refused to fail.

“No.” Bond paused as he heard a man hiss. “You’re holding back. Come on! Why are you going so slow?”

“Possibly because you’ve been such terrible caretakers that I can’t see straight anymore.” Q’s voice was wheezy, clearly pained, but his sarcasm was a welcome sound to hear.

“Try again. I was told you’re the best hacker around. Why is it taking so long?”

“I’m going to punch Jonathon in the face next time I see him. Since when has he considered me to be the best hacker? At Uni, he was always boasting about how good he was.” Q was whinging but he sounded like he was deliberately baiting the man. 

“You are an absolute shit.” The man swore angrily, before he yelped. 

“I think you can claim that title.” Bond informed him as he stepped into the room, lowering his gun as he watched the man slide to the floor, fingers scrambling weakly over the fresh wound.

“007!” Q’s smile was bright and he lurched to his feet. “I am ever so pleased to see you.”

“For once.” Bond added as he caught the young man. “Are you hurt?”

“Bruised. They hit me rather a lot, they haven’t fed me in the time they’ve had me. I’ve not been allowed to sleep and I’ve only had a few sips of water. Mostly, he just shouted though.”

A glance told him the dead man had stopped twitching, so the agent simply slung Q’s arm over his shoulder and they headed out. 

“Someone here knew you from Uni?” Bond inquired as e led the way to the lift. 

“Yes. They think I work for the It department at Universal Exports.” Q explained as he leaned heavily on the older man.

“Under the name of Percy.” Bond said, the name spoken earlier settling in place.

“It was my nickname at Uni.” Q replied.

“Percy, huh?” He smirked as the crept out and across the yard.

“My name is Q, 007. That’s all you need to know.” Q’s voice was strained, but Bond couldn’t tell if it was the conversation or the toil he had gone through.

Tactfully, he decided to drop the subject of Q’s name before he had even started. It wasn’t fair that he’d learnt it in such a way, when Q was so vulnerable. “We’re going to have to walk, I’m afraid.” He informed the young man. 

“In the pitch black? Across the countryside? This is going to go well.” But Bond noticed that he didn’t suggest the torch on Bond’s phone. It was better to leave without being seen.

In silence they headed along, carefully stepping to avoid turning an ankle over. However, it was cold; the winter night brought frost and ice and while Bond had given Q his inner jacket, the young man was still dressed in jeans, a jumper and canvas shoes. The moon wasn’t full, but it was bright enough that he felt paranoid about being visible. 

“There are a lot of stars.” Q whispered after some time, his voice catching as he spoke.

“Too much of a city boy to see this often, I take it.” Bond grinned slightly as he steadied Q, who had stumbled. 

“Only on computers, I‘m afraid.” He replied, his voice soft as he stared up. 

Taking note of Q’s ragged breathing, Bond decided to take a break. “Come here.” He said, unzipping his coat to tug the Quartermaster against him. 

“B-Bond!” Q startled, before he gasped. A loud explosion sounded in the distance, then another. “Oh! What’s the date?”

“1st of January, apparently.” Bond answered as he too turned to watch the fireworks. 

“I had sparklers.” Q sounded disappointed. 

“I’m sure we can get some in the town.” Bond murmured as red and blue blossomed across the sky.

Q sighed. “But mine had been improved. They really sparkled.”

“Is that what Q Branch does these days?” Bond laughed as he felt Q step back. “Ready to head off?”

“I like sparkles.” Q informed him defensively. “And yes. I’m quite ready for a cup of tea and a warm blanket.”

“You’ll just have to enjoy the sparkles of the fireworks for now.” He chuckled again. “Have you told Q Branch we’re away?”

“My earwig might be broken.”

Q sighed and swore again, but turned to trudge on as Bond grinned behind him.


	22. A Favourite Memory

“My favourite memory is…” Q hummed for a moment as he thought, trying to decide as he fingered the rim of his glass. “Oh! When we went to that classical concert in the summer. It was relaxing and you were pretty happy.”

“Mine was throwing eggnog in this idiot’s face last week.” Said one of the other’s at the table, ignoring the way Q was gazing at Bond. The older man supposed their pub-friends were too used to this to pay it any attention these days.

“My favourite memory of the year was watching Star Wars for the first time.” Bond added his thoughts. “Even if it was a long day.”

“He made you watch them all in one go?” Steve asked, a smirk on his face as he looked at Q. “What order?”

“We started with four and five.” Bond told them. “Then we watched one, two and three.”

“You watched one? I wouldn’t have bothered.”

“That was the movie that got me into Star Wars.” Q defended his choice. “I couldn’t miss it out!”

“Then the rest of the episodes? Or did you put the side stories in somewhere?” John questioned, curiously as the others scoffed; Q was by far the youngest man at their table and other than Bond, the others seemed to have watched all the movies as they had come out.

“We watched six, then the Star Wars stories, then made our way into the new trilogy, so that we can go see the next movie soon.”

“I think I would have watched them all in chronological order.” Harry, the final man on their table, commented. 

“No way!” Q argued. “Not if you’re watching for the first time. You don’t get the big reveal if you watch the prequels first.”

“Like there is anyone left who doesn’t know that Vader is his father.” 

And so the discussion got going; Bond, however, didn’t bother to comment one way or the other, having only just watched the films once he didn’t feel like he had a good enough grasp of the world to chat about the details.

However, that lazy Saturday had indeed been his favourite in the whole year. They had kept their pyjamas on that morning when Q put A New Hope into the disc tray; the first film had been spent cuddled up together, Q still tired from travelling up and Bond always happy to hold him close. It hadn’t been a difficult film to follow it terms of storyline, but he hadn’t gotten too absorbed in it. He’d spent a fair bit of the first film watching Q watch the film; the young man hadn’t been able to sit still, shifting from curled up on top of Bond to kneeling on the sofa to wriggling about beside him as they reached his favourite moments. Q had spent a good portion of the film glancing up at his lover’s face to check if he was enjoying it, or to see his first reaction to the interesting bits. 

The second film had taken them to lunch time, and had been pretty interesting. He had, of course, heard the quote ‘Luke, I am your father’ over the years (though it was curious to note that the quote from the film was different), but the revelation had still been something and Bond had gotten into this film enough that it had startled him. Q had forgotten about watching to see Bond’s reactions by this point and had been mouthing the lines along with the characters.

Then they had stopped for lunch and to take the dogs out, cheerfully chatting about what had happened so far; Bond had thoroughly enjoyed watching Q struggle not to give away everything that happened in the rest of the films as he hesitantly out forward what he thought could happen; not something he would normally do, but he’d liked the two films enough to want to think the through as they ambled through the rain. 

They then watched the prequels. For all the politics that made their way into these films, Bond loved several things about them. The main thing, of course, was the lightsabre battles, which had stepped up in intensity with the improvement of special effects over the years. For all that sword fighting was terribly old-fashioned, he liked the idea that these people could use them to contend with the guns and blasters that were used. He also appreciated getting Vader’s backstory and the chance to look at where he had come from. 

Q had been a lot more animated during these films, happily pointing out little nuggets of information, or where certain bits linked with others. He’d spend a large portion in Bond’s lap, curled up and close enough to whisper to him about the characters and the actual making of the films. At the start of episode three, Bonnie and Sylvester gave up with jumping on their noisy toys in the kitchen and came with lie on the sofa with them; it should have felt oppressive to have spent a day mostly just lying around and watching telly, trapped under one person and two dogs, but Bond revelled in the peace it brought. 

After the prequels, they had ordered take away and puttered around until it arrived, putting things away and feeding the dogs. Q had then showered while Bond did some dusting and then once their meals were there they curled up to watch episode six. Q started the film off on the other side of the sofa, his hair still dripping onto the towel he wore around his shoulders as they ate with the plates on their knees, but as soon as Q had deposited the dishes into the sink, he dropped back into Bond’s lap and watched his lover watch the film. Used to Q watching him for long periods of time, Bond had had no trouble with focussing on the movie and watching how things played out. 

The next movie had been Rogue One on, which was startlingly different to the episode movies, with the different opening and no Jedi, but it was the final one, episode seven that he counted as his favourite memory. 

He’d been relaxed going into that one, with Q on top of him, Bonnie on his feet and Sylvester on the floor just beneath him. The house had been dark and quiet, allowing him the chance to lose himself fully in the film, nothing to pull him out of it and no jobs that needed doing just yet. Just half an hour in, Bond had heard a slight snort and realised that Q had fallen asleep his body lax on Bond’s chest as the action played out on the screen. 

It had felt like the perfect moment, an idyllic snapshot in time of how things ought to be; surrounded by the elements of life that made him happy while managing to laze in front of the TV. In the quiet moments, he could hear the rain on the windows, listen to the wind batter at the branches of the trees outside and he had felt content that this was the life he had acquired for himself, having dismissed the chance of napping on beaches with a beautiful woman.

Watching Q eagerly arguing about the choices made in Star Wars as they sat in the pub with casual friends at the end of the year, Bond knew that this was where he wanted to be.


	23. Something you have Received

“You're not taking a plane. You’re catching the train.” Q informed him, amusement ringing through his tone as Bond groaned.

“You must be joking. A train?” He was exhausted and could indeed sleep anywhere, but he would have preferred to sleep in his own bed. “Are we on a tight budget now?”

“You would have to get the train to the nearest station anyway so M said to leave you on it until you’re back here.” Q's innocent tone didn’t fool him for a second.

“And you had nothing to do with it?”

“I follow orders when given them, you see.” Q told him in an almost sad voice, though the slight chuckle that escaped at the end rather ruined the effect.

Bond sighed as he thought back through his most recent mission. “What did I do that warrants this?”

“Do you remember that’s smart bomb that I asked you to bring back for me? The bomb that was composed of highly advanced, wonderfully new tech that I don’t think I’ve ever encountered yet?” Bond chose to remain silent as Q grumbled. “I’m sure you do. You threw it at those men earlier on; the ones you could have taken a moment longer in taking out with one of your regular weapons.”

“So you aren’t filled with pleasure and gratitude at the thought of me coming back in one piece?” he asked, fighting the grin off his face as he suspected the Quartermaster truly was irritated about this. 

“You’re lucky you have any method of return at all. If you want to fly then that train goes passed the airport and you can sort yourself out, 007.”

Q hung up and Bond sighed quietly. He didn’t know whether or not to bother with flying. On the one hand, the train ride might give Q time to calm down... On the other, he genuinely preferred to fly and doing something for himself might cheer Q up slightly.

Wearily, he trudged back to the hotel through the damp weather. The sun was rapidly setting and the black storm clouds tackled any light that tried to shine through; the remains of the day seemed to reflect the agent's mood as he swiped his key card and began to strip off his wet clothes. He'd lost his gun, which Q was going to be pissed about; the only consolation being that it has been badly damaged when he’d dropped it into the lake, so hopefully no one would be able to find any use of it. He was battered, but thankfully not actually injured... however he was more than ready for a rest. 

Picking up his phone, he located his passport then began the process of sorting out his own return to London. It was a bothersome thing to do on a limited Wi-Fi signal, but he worked out when his train would be at the airport and checked the flight times. There was one to London tonight, but none until two days after that. It wasn’t a big airport and there weren’t many flights leaving from it. 

He would have to hurry though if he was going to make it. The train was set to arrive not long before the flight actually left. Throwing his clothes into his small case and grabbing his coat, Bond quickly left the room.

On the train, he phoned the airport to sort out a seat; there were plenty left and it wasn’t a big aeroplane, but he sweet talked his way through the conversation, explaining that he was on the train to the airport and could they possibly wait for him as he only had hand luggage. After a check on the systems, she eventually agreed to ask the pilot to wait ten minutes, which was all that could be spared as several people had other flights to catch from London.

Once there, he was hurried through the checks with no troubles as he had no weapons and was soon on the plane.

Half an hour into his flight, his phone rang.

“Bond.” He answered lazily, gazing over at the stewardess handing out drinks. 

“Bond.” It was Q, but he was whispering quickly, his breathing fast and uneven. “I need your help.”

“Q? What’s going on?” he lowered his voice and turned to the window, thankful that he had no-one sat too close to him. 

“Hostiles in Q Branch.” Q replied and Bond could hear shuffling as Q moved. “They’ve cut off communications and the other two people in here were shot.” 

“If they’ve cut off communications...” Bond began, not wanting to think about Q alone in the middle of the night against people willing to kill. 

“I’ve made some experimental modifications to my personal phone.” Q breathed. “I’m in my office with the door locked but they’ve knocked the power off.” 

“Is there anywhere you can hide?” he asked, wanting Q out the path as much as possible. “I’ve got just over an hour till I land so I can be there in 90 minutes.” 

“We have a few vents but they’re sealed shut to stop people getting in.”

“And people getting out.” He growled, adrenaline coursing through him despite being stuck here for another hour. “Don’t hide under your desk if you can avoid it. Once they break in they’ll head straight over to there.” 

“I wish I’d put blinds in here.” The young man grouched unhappily, but Bond knew he probably hadn’t bothered because he didn’t spend much time in his office, preferring to be on the floor with everyone else. “Should I go over and put the deadbolt on?”

Bond thought for a moment. Q's office was just a small room with a window out into the rest of Q Branch; he would likely reach it with out being seen. “No.” He decided. “That window is glass anyway so they’ll get in. If you put the deadbolt on then they will know for sure that someone in there.”

Q suddenly gasped, “I can reach a vent. There is one that isn’t sealed because it only leads further into Q Branch rather than outside.”

“Hide in there.” Bond hissed, glancing at his watch. Forty minutes till he landed.

“I need to find the key.” Q murmured as the agent could hear drawers being opened and shut. “Okay. Shit, that isn’t much space.”

“Q...”

“I know.”

“Is there space to turn around in there?” He asked, before Q could scramble inside. 

“Just about?”

“Go in backwards to you can shut the vent and lock it behind yourself then turn around and go further in. Don’t stop till you are out of sight of your office.” 

“It- it’s very odd having you give the orders.” Q stated as Bond heard a clunk of metal. “Oh, this is tight. I don’t actually have enough height to crawl.” 

“Then wiggle.” 

Then there was silence, broken only by the quickening gasps of the Quartermaster. Bond wondered if he was claustrophobic, but drawing attention to it wouldn’t help anyone.

A little while later, Q breathed “They’re in my office now. I can hear them.”

“Shh!” he hissed quickly. “I’ll be landing soon do just hang on.” 

“Shit. You’ll need to hang up, won’t you.” It wasn’t a question and Q sounded miserable at the idea.

“Only for a bit. I’ll ring you back in fifteen or twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes in here. I can do that.” But Q didn’t sound so sure. “And you won’t be able to ring me back. You don’t have access to this number.” 

“I have your number. It came up in caller ID.” The agent objected as he watched the stewardess look pointedly at him. He nodded his head and gave her a smile.

“Don’t be thick Bond. I’ll ring you back soon then. And I’ll change the alerts on the access to Q Branch. As long as no-one is at the door then you’ll be able to get in with your key card.”

“I’d need to stop at my flat for that.” He informed Q.

“Why don’t... okay. A biometrics scan. Takes a little longer but it can’t be helped.” He could hear Q taking deep breaths. “See you soon, Bond.” And he hung up.

With a final glare from the stewardess, Bond turned his phone off and pocketed it. He glared back at her, too tense to flirt anymore.

The landing went smoothly, but it still took too long as Bond went through the checks and half ran out the terminal to catch a taxi. He had no weapon, but he would improvise; hopefully the hostiles in Q Branch wouldn’t be expecting anyone at 3am. 

He sent a text to both Moneypenny and M from his assigned mobile phone, keeping his personal one free as Q failed to ring him back on it.

“Bond? What’s going on?” M rang him back not even half a minute after the message had been sent. 

“Hostiles in Q Branch.” He informed the man very quietly, eyes on the singing taxi driver. “There were three people in there but Q said they shot the other two.”

“He only rang you?”

“Unless he phoned someone else while my phone was turned off.” Which was possible. “But he said they had blocked communications so I don’t know for certain.”

“I’ll take it that extra chip worked for him then.” M mused as Bond heard a car start up. “I have weapons. Wait for me before you go in.”

“Yes sir.” 

“I’ll be there in five.” M told him then hung up as Bond pulled up outside. 

Dumping his case behind some bins, Bond leaned into the shadows, far enough away from the entrance that he couldn’t be seen by cctv and waited.

Soon, M had handed him a weapon and they made their way inside in silence, Bond having told M all he knew and the older man taking charge of the mission.

Bond let them into Q Branch and M took down the guard just inside the door. They prowled silently down the stairs and over to the thick metal door that usually protected Q Branch. 

There was shouting, someone getting told off. It didn’t sound like they were shouting at Q, Bond noted as he crept in and raised his gun. There were five figures starting around the computer on the central station, all foolishly with their backs to the door. On the ground the a puddle of blood by the office door lay Q; he wasn't moving. There was fire in M’s eyes as he clocked the Quartermaster too and he gestured for Bond to take out the two men on the left, but to leave the one on the far right – he seemed to have some authority over the others. 

M shot the other two and moved to subdue the final man as Bond moved to Q’s side. 

“Q.” He said softly as the young man’s eyes fluttered open. 

“You're back already?”

“I’m here.” He assured him, wadding up the cardigan that lay on the floor beside an overturned chair and pressing it against the messy wound Q had on his stomach. 

“Oh... you can have it now, 007.” He slurred as is eyes fluttered.

“Have what?” he asked, more focussed on trying to stem the bleeding.

“My gratitude. You can take a plane next time.” He gave Bond a weak smile. 

“Possibly the best thing I’ve ever received.” He informed the boffin, feeling noticeably glad that Q was still alive to give his gratitude.

“And I’ll give you my personal number, so that you can call me back.” He continued, his voice small as he lifted a hand to rest heavily against Bonds. 

“An even better gift, Q. Now hang on.”


	24. Something You Have Given

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oops, sorry. I thought I'd put these last two chapters up, but I must have not one it yet. Here they are...

“H-Hi. Table for two?” the teenager before them asked, tugging awkwardly at his cuffs.

“Yes. We have a reservation.” Q informed him smoothly. 

“What’s the name?”

“Bond.” 

“Here it is. This way.”

They followed the waiter as James looked at Q with heat in his eyes. There was nothing more attractive than Q using his name.

They had been married to each other for two months and Q had never shown the slightly hesitation at changing his surname; both his real surname and his alias. Q had simply informed him after the wedding that he had changed them both, even though it had been his real name on the register. 

Honestly, James had only been told his husband's full name in the few days before the ceremony, but it wasn’t actually important. Whether he was officially called Perseus Lancelot Siger Bond or Quentin Percival Bond made no difference. He now introduced himself as Q or Dr Bond, depending on who he was talking to. 

In terms of gifts, this one was by far James' favourite. Sure, the others got used on occasion, like the walking boots Q had gotten a few months earlier or the thick blue jumper that the younger man had worn for most the winter, but this one was the best. 

Q wore his ring every hour of the day and was Q Bond in both his waking and his sleeping, they were linked until death parted them and James had never been gladder to have left his spy life behind him. Just here months after Q had proposed, the Quartermaster had had to go on an undercover mission with some 00 agent that James didn’t know. The mission had been successful, Q had come back without a scratch but he admitted to James that he had kissed the agent to look busy while they had been out. 

James had burned internally with fury even though he told Q it was fine. He was a jealous man, apparently, which he never had been before; but the thought of someone realising how wonderful Q was... the possibility of Q noticing how far from his prime James was... the idea had made him feel sick. But the emotion had faded just as quickly by the sound of Q whinging when he opened the door to their enclosed garden and finding it covered in dog poo that he hadn’t bothered to clear up yet. 

The domesticity of their life had been an unexpected but firm reassurance as Q had shut the door and yelled that he was going for a bath. 

And now, as they sat together and ordered drinks, James gazed at his husband in mild disbelief that the other man loved him. 

After all, Q hadn’t just been told after the fact that James had been sleeping with all sorts of people, but had often had to sit and listen over the comms. It was true they hadn’t ban together then, but how the Quartermaster had ended up in love with him anyway was both a mystery and a miracle. 

“Well, I know what I’m having.” Q stated calmly, leaning back without touching a menu.

“What’s good?” James asked. He was fully aware that Q liked to read the menu online the look through the reviews to see what tempted him the most. 

“You would either enjoy the rib-eye steak or the seafood lasagne.” He leaned in close, dropping his voice to a whisper, “Don’t go for the chicken here; a few people have gotten food poisoning from it.”

“Seafood lasagne, did you say?” He did enjoy flavour in a meal, and done properly it could be delicious.

“Apparently better than from a restaurant in Italy, but the man who made that comment may have been deluding himself. I looked at some of his other reviews and he was a bit snobbish.” His husband was grinning, the impish look taking years off his usually tired face. “The other people who rated it seemed pretty normal though.”

“Sounds good.” He agreed, watching as Q confidently caught the waiter’s attention and began to order.

“I’ll have the rib-eye steak in red wine sauce. Medium rare please. My husband will have seafood lasagne with no cheese.” James pulled a face at that but didn’t argue. It wasn’t that he was putting weight on, but that he not feeding small scraps to the dogs so Q had decided that he wasn’t allowed cheese at all anymore. He supposed the kennels the dogs were in would stick with Q's approved diet rather than giving their pets little treats, but for the chance to come away to the small, seaside town with Q and breathe in the salt air while watching ships in the harbour... It was worth it for a few days. 

It was even better when he got to wander along next to Q and show that he was the one that this particular genius had chosen to pair himself with for the rest of their lives, the ring James had given him glinting on his finger as his lover bought things from their joint bank account using a card with P L S Bond embossed on it. 

In his wildest dreams, James couldn’t have imagined a better partner. He was so stupidly happy with their pets and their homes and even the status of their finances that his younger self would have run for the hills. It wasn't what he had ever expected, even on the days he vaguely considered the idea of reading retirement, but their life and their hobbies (together and apart as they got snappy if they didn’t spend some time away from each other), he was happier than he had ever been.


	25. Someone You Love

Q huffed loudly as Meatloaf suddenly stopped singing about a motorbike accident, his vocals replaced by a mournful violin solo. Forearms buried in soapy water, he twisted enough to glare at his husband, who had turned to look in the fridge as he lost the battle to keep a straight face.

“I was listening to that.” He complained as he placed the next cup on the drying rack. 

“No, you weren’t.” James paused for a moment, his grin widening. “I’m going to make lamb curry for dinner, so I get to choose the station.”

Q hesitated for a moment, his love for lamb curry warring with his displeasure at the radio station changing. “You could have waited till the end of the song.”

“You weren’t listening to it anyway, love.” Bond replied simply as he pulled out the defrosted meat. “When you do, I have to endure your singing attempts.”

“Oi!” The younger man objected, but with no real heat, most of his attention on the frying pan he was scrubbing; the burnt remains of food left over from his own efforts at cooking. 

“Thinking deep thoughts?” James asked curiously as he began to cut the lamb into strips. 

Q nodded, his gaze drifting out to their garden. “It’s been 15 years tomorrow since you asked me out.”

“Has it?” James sounded startled, as though time had gone quicker than expected. 

Q hummed in reply but didn’t say anything, simply put the last cup on the rack and drained the sink. He had no difficulty believing it had been so long; remembering life before James was odd, as though he hadn’t really made a start on living back then. 

“Ani, come on. Out the kitchen.” He called to their young, black lab as he stepped out. “Leave James to cook in peace.” 

“Don’t go sit with Bonnie.” He heard James say as the dog presumably went to sit in their old dog’s basket. “Out.”

“Come on, Ani. Walkies!” Q called again, and the phrase was enough to get the dog bounding over to him. “Oh, there’s Albus. Good boy.”

“Not you, Bonnie. There’s a good girl.” James soothed gently, as Q struggled to stick their Newfoundland pup’s legs into his harness. Bonnie let out a grunt and went back to sleep. 

“I’ll take you out when I get back.” Q promised, clipping leads to the harnesses and standing up. “How long have I got?”

“If you’re wanting to take Bonnie out after then probably about 2 hours. I’m going to cook the lamb slowly so it falls apart.”

“Ok. Love you.” 

Once he was out, the dogs playing together as they raced through the empty field, Q allowed his mind to drift again. 15 years was something… he could still remember how James had stubbornly waited out his objections, stating bluntly a list of reasons why he found Q attractive, only one of those points having anything to do with his appearance. 

Q had to look back at old photos to remember what his husband had looked like back then, with a full head of hair and fewer lines… but it had only been watching a video, one of the training clips that Q Branch had made with 007 before he retired fully that Q had noticed another difference. James was so much more at ease now that he barely looked like the same man; he had now blended his spy training with civilian life so perfectly that, even though James had been one of the best in his time, the man on the screens had seemed wooden and false (not that the videos were in need of replacing yet. They were excellent for helping newbies adapt and to anyone who didn’t know him inside out, James would be perfectly believable). 

“Ani? Albus? Come here.” He called out, holding out a hand for them to see. With leads once again attached, Q pushed the gate into the next field, feeling Albus tug to try and play with the cows as Ani trotted happily along beside him. 

James really had given him a new life that he’d never expected. All those women he’d had, a large number of them likely convinced that James was the one… he was willing to bet none of them had imagined a life like this, dodging cowpat as he trudged through the rain. Q certainly hadn’t imagined it for himself; he’d honestly expected to live out his days in London, working until he died like Boothroyd and Chester, the two previous Q’s had. However, this was better. 

He had found someone he loved more than work and the life they had built together was bizarrely perfect. They had cars and dogs and beautiful countryside and friends… an actual life that didn’t revolve around going to work, coming home to eat and sleep then going back to work.

Q was so stupidly happy and in love that it almost denied belief.

He couldn’t wait for the next 15 years.


End file.
